Fall of Rain
by KayleighBough
Summary: During the night, four of NCIS vanish from their beds. Only Gibbs and another remain. A desperate search ensues while time ticks down. Tate, McAbby.
1. Prologue

**Prologue**

_1.38 am_

There was someone in the hallway.

Inside her bedroom, agent Caitlin Todd leant slowly for her gun. Her nerves were on fire, burning with warning.

_There's someone in the hallway!_

She couldn't tell what had woken her. A creak, a whisper, some precognitive sense.  
Her chest was tight as she listened.

Silence.  
The groan of cars on the highway.  
The slightest creak, as though someone resettling their foot.

She slid out of bed, ducked behind it. She could taste tension thick like glue, eyes wide against the darkness.

Outside, someone waited.

She moved slowly, taking place beside the door. Gun raised against her chest.  
Waited.

_What the hell are they waiting for?_ she thought, shaking with adrenalin.

The door creaked open slightly, and her heart jumped into her throat.

The muzzle of a gun peeked around the edge of the door like the snout of a dog, searching.  
For her.

Her finger tightened.

The door roared open, and her hands leapt up.

_Crack!_

She fired for the first man shaped shadow through the door, rewarded by the wet crack of a skull imploding.  
The second raced around the door, barrelling towards her.

Her second shot fired an instant before he hit, vanishing in the black wall of his chest. He hit like a train, smashing her into the wall. Ribs cracked, air exploded from her lungs in a yelp.  
The world swirled and she was crushed.

Her mouth opened to shout and he hit her, once, twice.

Dazed, Kate watched as the gun was wrenched from her fingers. The man had her arms crushed to her front, a leg forced between her thighs. Two hands wrapped around her head like spiders; the heel of his hand nearly broke her teeth.

There was a second of silence broken by their jagged breathing. Kate could feel his heart through her shirt, hear it thundering, smell his acrid sweat.  
Felt the bullet, crushed between her and his bullet proof vest.

Kate glared into the faceless black helmet, and was afraid.

She was still, breathing painfully, eyes darting. A third man was bent over the first, checking for life. She stared as he stood. All three wore the SWAT uniform, weapons standard issue.

Except for the syringe, carried in the third man's hand.

Her head was wrenched aside to bear her neck.

She wriggled and kicked in sudden fury, trying vainly to knee her captor in the crotch. His elbow dug into her cracked ribs, and she snarled into his hand.

A tiny, lingering pinprick.

She sagged in his grip.

Somewhere in the night, Abby spasmed as a similar needle found her bare arm as she fought the men that held her down. Ducky was dragged out of his bathroom, grey faced and bleeding. Anthony DiNozzo didn't wake as a needle slid under his skin.

And Gibbs…Gibbs slept on.

Nothing disturbed his sleep that night.


	2. Chapter 1

Disclaimer — Don't own. If I did, we'd be rich enough to get rid of the scuttly thing in our ceiling.  
Shippings are open to interpretation. Set early season 2.

* * *

_**9:27 am**_

Gibbs's gut wasn't happy.

Not while he ate yesterday's cold Chinese, or when he brushed his teeth. Not while he drove to NCIS, or sat through two hours of the Director outlining new policies within the agency. Especially not when he walked into the office and discovered only Agent McGee had arrived.

He eyed the two empty chairs, then turned towards McGee. He, too, looked uneasy.

"Is something happening that I don't know about?"

McGee looked uncertaintly at the chairs, answering the question before he spoke. "No, I don't think so."

"Then where are they?"

"I don't know—"

Gibbs dropped his coffee on the desk, and turned the telecom to the labs. Abby's empty room gazed back.

His gut twinged.

_Autopsy, then. Maybe Ducky..._  
He dialled.

No answer.

_Very… strange._

McGee watched every movement. "You think—"

"I don't think," Gibbs said harshly. "I know. Call Tony's and Kate's cells."

"I already did, Boss."

Gibbs looked at him, and McGee started to stammer. "It-It was late, and I was wondering where—"

"And?"

He quailed under Gibbs glare. "They didn't answer."

Gibbs called Ducky's home phone. Then Abby, Tony and Kate.  
Nothing.

Agent McGee stood up as Gibbs grabbed his car keys. He started for the elevator, abandoning his coffee.

"Kate is closest." Gibbs said.

McGee followed.

_It's probably nothing,_ McGee thought.  
Hoped.

Gibbs didn't. He knew it wasn't nothing.

Something was wrong

* * *

_10:04 am _

Her door was unlocked.  
Bad sign. Very, very bad sign.

Gibbs opened it slowly, gun raised and ready.

The combined kitchen/living room was empty, silent; Everything seemed to be in place. Gibbs frowned at the TV, which was muted and flickering. A women smiled and gestured towards exercise equipment. He touched the top.

Hot. It must have been on for hours.

McGee vanished into the bathroom.

"Nothing here," he called  
Gibbs walked into her bedroom and stopped. The bed looked recently slept in, windows thrown open.

There was blood on the walls.

He looked at the dark crusted stains, sudden anxiety bringing bile to his throat.

_That was a lot of blood_.

McGee stepped up beside him, stopping dead. "Oh…"

"Check the bed." Gibbs said tersely.

They combed through the room. Gibbs leant down, examining the carpet.  
Blood stains; whoever was shot landed there. A blood trail snaked from the main mass, ending at the door. They had been dragged out. Unconscious at best.

McGee pulled the covers off the bed. No blood, or any other fluids. He looked in relief at Gibbs, but was cowed by the tightness of his jaw.

Silently, they searched.

Gibbs looked behind the door, the frowned. Something taped to the back of it.

A syringe. And a videotape.

He picked it up, fingering the empty label. Nothing on this tape would be good, he knew with a painful sense of foreboding. But then, was there any choice?

They walked into the living room to the TV. _Sick bastard_, Gibbs thought with sudden fury. This was planned, calculated.  
He pushed the tape in, then stood back and clicked the remote.

Black.  
Then there was an image, a green tinted view of the very room he stood in.

"Night vision?" McGee wondered.

Gibbs shushed him, eyes intent on the screen. He flicked on the volume, but no sound came through the speakers. The camera angle jerked forward, and a pair of shadows slunk towards the bedroom door. They waited behind the door for a moment, then burst through.

The head of intruder number one exploded in the silence.

_Good girl, Kate_, Gibbs thought with savage triumph.

The first intruder dropped as the second surged around the door.

The camera dipped as the holder checked the man for signs of life. Two hands appeared, and Gibbs realised the camera must have been attached to the man's helmet.

_A helmet that can record?_ he wondered distantly. That was military issue. He felt numb, a cold rage slowly pulsing at the pit of his stomach.

The view looked up, and he saw the second man pinning Kate to the wall. She writhed under him, legs and arms trapped. A needle appeared, and Kate's fight became violent. She glared at the camera, eyes wide in baffled rage. Gibbs felt his nails sinking into his palms as the needle found its place in her neck. Her eyes went dull.  
She was sliding to the floor as the screen went black.

Gibbs breathed, lungs aching from so long without air. But it wasn't finished yet.

Another green-lit corridor. Gibbs recognised it as the one outside Tony's apartment before the door opened.

There he was, sprawled across his bed, dead to the world. He didn't even flinch as the needle found his back.

Another room. This time Abby's.

Behind him, McGee stood suddenly.

Gibbs watched as she woke to see four men standing over her. She rolled with speed that surprised even him, trying frantically to dart through a gap between two of the men. Hands pushed her into the mattress, and she stared up into the camera as a needle sunk into her arm.

Then another. Ducky appeared in the shot for an instant, then the screen flashed to snow as the thrown ornament hit the camera. Static, then a split second shot of Ducky, unconscious and bleeding. The speakers buzzed harshly, then fell silent.

Blackness.

**TELL NO ONE, OR THEY WON'T WAKE UP.**

The words flashed on the screen, then faded.

**24 HOURS FROM 6:00 AM. 4 PEOPLE. YOU DO THE MATH.**

Ducky's grey face flashed on the screen for a moment.

**1200 HOURS. 199615KGHAWKSHEAD**.

The screen turned to snow.

Gibbs threw the remote at the screen and watched as it shattered.

* * *

_**Time Unknown.**_

_Oh...god._

Tony had the mother of all hangovers. The fat, pregnant mother who was jumping up and down on his forehead with sadistic glee. But it was strange, he didn't remember drinking anything last night.

He moaned, and instinctively reached for his head. His hands started to move. Then stopped.  
His hands were bound.

Shock opened his eyes to darkness.

Very awake, he turned his head blindly, breathing snorting from his nose.  
Dirt under his head and bare back. The acid smell of petrol. Blind, bound by hand and foot.

Captive.

Enraged, he struggled, kicking out wildly with his bound legs and trying to move his taped hands. Muscles strained, tendons stood out as he grunted with exertion. But the tape didn't even so much as stretch.  
His bare feet kicked something soft and warm. Like human skin.

He jerked back. There was a muffled cry, and realisation blossomed. He wasn't alone.

He calmed, listening. He could hear breathing, but not his. He slid his feet forward again, hesitantly, reaching. His foot touched the hot skin of what might have been a collarbone. The owner jerked away at the foreign touch.  
Another muffled noise. They were bound too.

Tony started to wriggle back, twisting himself slowly so his hands might be able to reach their face, reach the tape. He reached back with his hands, twisting awkwardly.

He touched cloth, and realised very suddenly that he was too low. And it was a woman.  
She kicked him, feet bruising the back of his thigh.

_Understandable,_ he thought with a slight wince, moving up and reaching again. His shoulder muscles throbbed at the awkward position.

His hands found a face. The woman fought his grip but he held on, trying to communicate with his hands that he was trying to help. His fingers tightened, and there was a gasp of pain. The woman froze, breath burning his hands. The skin he touched was tight and hot from swelling, sticky with clotted blood.

He fumbled as gently as he could, appreciating for the first time what the blind must feel, every touch sudden and unknown.

There were two strips, one across her eyes, the other her mouth. He yanked experimentally, peeling off the first with a slow ripping noise. The second was much easier, the woman moving her head with the movement of his hands.  
It was off.

"Even a situation like this is a chance to feel someone up, huh DiNozzo?" she croaked.

Kate.

There was a second of light headed, dizzying relief, followed by sickening apprehension.  
Kate as well?

She was gasping for breath in painful wheezes. He reached his hands back again and gently touched her poor face. He could hear her breath catch with pain, but she didn't pull away.

"It's not as bad as it feels," she said softly.

He felt the raw cuts and two swollen eyelids, and appreciated the lie. It must have hurt like hell.

"Move your hands down. I think I can get the tape off."

He did, and held very still as her teeth tugged at the duct tape, He winced as the circulation was cut off, then heard the rip as it pulled free. Soon, he could move his hands. He jerked the suffocating tape of his mouth, gasping in great lungfuls of stinking air. He ripped the tape from his eyes, blinking in the gloom.

A low ceiling, cracked with age and pressing down. Near darkness, all light leaking from the cracks of a door in the wall. Filth clung as he moved, and the smell was hideous. It felt subterranean, suffocating, like a basement.  
Like a prison.

He rolled over to help Kate. Then he stopped.  
She stared back, flat on her stomach with arms tied behind her back. Her face was black with blood and bruises.  
Kate watched him through the tiny slits that could be seen through her swollen eyes, shining like liquid in the bad light.

"It's as bad as it looks, though,' he told her quietly.  
She ignored him. "You going to untie me?"

He leant over, reaching for her arms.

She was only slightly better dressed as him, only in shorts and a shirt.

"I'm so glad you chose last night to be a boxer shorts night." Kate said into the concrete.

He grinned as he ripped the tape from her arms. "Oh, I know a lot of girls who would disagree with—"

Noise.  
They froze.

Again. This time Tony recognised it as a stifled sob of pain. His neckled prickled unpleasantly.

Kate sat up, searching. In the hard darkness of the shadows were two more bound shapes, half hidden in the gloom. Tony wrenched his legs free and crawled over, Kate wincing as she did the same. Blood rushed to her feet, so they tingled painfully.

Tony leant over them, and he felt a chill when he saw who they were.

Ducky. And Abby.  
Ducky was grey and unconscious, blood still oozing from a raised cut on his skull.

Abby was very much awake. Her skin was white and gleaming like wax as Tony leant over to pull off the duct tape. Kate delicately felt the lump on Ducky's head, and hoped it wasn't as bad as it felt. He was unmoving as she untied him, out cold.

Tony had released Abby's face. Her eyes were screwed shut with pain. She breathed once, and then let out a high-pitched sound that made the skin on Kate's neck crawl.

"Abby, what's wrong?"

Tony looked ill. "Oh man, look at her arm."

"What?" Kate looked. There was an extra 'joint', a complete snap of the bone. A shard poked from the skin, weeping blood.  
"Oh god—"

There was a jungle of keys from behind the door. Kate and Tony looked at each other, frozen. They had no time to act as the door opened, banging against the wall.

Three men in SWAT uniform stepped inside and stood to attention. Kate and Tony put themselves in front of Abby and Ducky, tense. They watched as their kidnappers filed inside. Two more came through, though it was clear from a glance they weren't used to the uniform; They had an uncomfortable walk. Kate's eye was immediately drawn to the first man, who was nearly a head taller than the other.

"You see?" the voice was robotic, masked. She couldn't tell who spoke.

Kate saw Tony eyeing the gun on the smaller of the two's belt, but he didn't move.  
In silence the smaller man looked them over, with seeming disinterest.

"Who are you? What do you want from us?"

Kate's voice was strong and hard, and only Tony caught the hesitation. She spoke to the smaller man, staring him right in the eye. His head moved slightly to regard her. Kate felt her skin crawl as she tried to remember what she knew about hostage situations.

_Keep calm. Talk to your kidnapper. Do not get angry.  
__Do not, under any circumstances, give them an excuse to hurt you._

"Let us go," she said, calm and unthreatening.

There was no way in hell it was going to work, but that wasn't the point. The point was to get a response.  
She got one.

The tall man took two steps, leant down, and broke her nose with an open hand.

Her ears roared as she went down. She curled protectively into a ball, half-blind, hands cupped around her bleeding nose. She heard Tony shout through the static, and the cock of a gun.

"Sit down against the wall. Do not speak again"

Her hands were drenched with blood, and the floor bucked under her head. _Dizzy...  
_Hands grabbed her and she was dragged back to be shoved against the wall. Ducky was pushed beside her, barely conscious. He blinked groggily at the two men standing over him.

"Make no noise. Do not try to get out," the robotic voice ordered. Ducky wondered about the voice, still dazed.

The smaller man turned to leave. The taller stopped him. "Tie them up again?"  
The smaller looked them over, then gave a single shake of his head.

They left, leaving near darkness in their wake. Ducky shook his head, not understanding.

Beside him, Kate slumped as she fainted.


	3. Chapter 2

___10:28am_

Gibbs drove aimlessly, seething in restless energy and rage.

The rage was consuming; rage at the men who had taken his people, rage at himself.

How could he have been so surprised that this happened? He'd made a lot of enemies over his career; one was bound to come looking for payback. Why wouldn't they go for the people he worked with?

Even in his head that sounded odd.

There was something wrong about the whole thing, a stink that haunted his thoughts.

_Why them?_ He found himself wondering. _Why them, and not McGee?_

McGee hadn't said a word after the video. He'd been dazed, stricken with survivor's guilt. But Gibbs knew he was thinking the same thing

He'd been left behind.

Gibbs had sent him to the other houses of the other three, to take his mind off it more than anything. They both already knew what he would find.

Houses apparently normal. Except for a videotape, and a syringe.

The syringe…

The thought, hovering at the back of his mind just out of sight, suddenly burst forward.

Gibbs drove a red light, and barely noticed the roars of braking cars.

A syringe. He knew that calling card.

A case just like this, a disappearing act on an NCIS agent nearly five years ago.  
Gone from her bed, all files missing on her case.

A case concerning a man known only by codename.  
"The Cardinal."

Gibbs remembered how her body had been found, and suddenly couldn't breathe.

The image of Abby, staring in complete shock at the men surrounding her bed suddenly rose, forcing him to pull over. His head touched the steering wheel as he breathed in slowly.

The bastard. The sick, twisted bastard had taken Gibbs's people.

He would hurt them, kill them. He could do that easily, without a thought. Gibbs had seen his work.

And he'd give Gibbs the bodies.

"But why?" he muttered into the quiet.

Gibbs knew of this man, heard of him through people like Fornell. A malevolent shadow in the background, a master with puppets, never showing his face but always letting his presence be felt. Always one step ahead, the true extent of his working never known.

But Gibbs had never been directly involved with a case involving him. Indirectly, yes, but they were never real enemies.

Until now, that is. Gibbs only knew a little of him.

But worse, it seemed he knew far more about Gibbs.

Gibbs sat up, gazing through the windscreen to the apartments in front, unseeing.

He remembered Fornell a year ago, in a towering rage. Drug mules ferrying through airports and across oceans. They'd come across a hundred false trails, all leading to nowhere.  
"Bastard's playing a game with us,"Fornell snarled to his agents.

He was playing a game with Gibbs now.

Gibbs knew enough of the man to know the rules. Hands on, dirty.

No mercy.

He'd made sure Gibbs played by the rules. Knew he wouldn't risk colleagues — friends.

Gibbs was going to play, whether he wanted to or not.

From his pocket his hand took out a note, hastily scribbled in Kate's apartment.

199615KGHAWKSHEAD.

1996. 15kg of meth crystals. The Hawks-head operation.

Gibbs remembered the job, though only barely. It had been a seizure of drugs taken from a small day surgery for marines, small on its own, but part of the largest drug bust in American history.

Gibbs had executed the operation, been part of the storming of the building, part of the arrests.

Had watched the head doctor throw himself of the roof rather than be caught.

Gibbs had known at the time there was something more behind the drugs, but had been unable to follow it through. He had learned of The Cardinal through Fornell, but no more than a name, and that there had never been any connection to the man the FBI knew was in control of the entire operation.

There never was.

Everything about this bugged him. This kidnapping followed no formula he knew of.

_Why crystal meth, and only that 15kg? Why not money?_

Gibbs jolted slightly as his phone rang.

He looked at the caller ID, expecting McGee.

TONY DINOZZO.

Slowly, he held it to his ear.

Silence.

_"…You got the videotape?"_

Gibbs blinked, face emotionless at the sound of the robotic voice.

Voice Distorter.

"Where are they?" his voice was harsh, aching with fury.

Silence. They weren't giving him an inch.

He gritted his teeth. "Yeah, I saw it," he snapped. His ears strained for anything in the background, any clue.

_"You have one and a half hours to deliver what we want."_ The words crackled and hisssed over the phone, burning his ear.

The crystal meth. Gibbs said nothing, cursing that he didn't have Abby tracing the call. Cursing that this man had her.

_"Twelve hundred is the meeting time. We will be in touch again."_

"Wait, where do I leave it?"

_"Where you got it from."_

His hand tightened. "What about my people."

A click, then the drone of a dial tone.


	4. Chapter 3

Sorry this took so long. Serious time constraints. This and the last chapter was supposed to be together, but I didn't have time to check them both properly. Next chapter's more exciting, I promise.

* * *

_Time Unknown_

_- - -_

Ducky stared blearily through the darkness, one hand clamped over the growing bump on his aching head. Vaguely, he knew this was bad, but it seemed to be taking a while to sink in. He felt oddly detached, apart.

Near the left hand wall, Tony was trying to pull the tape from Abby's broken arm without hurting her. He wasn't having much success. Ducky gazed blankly at her white face, then shook his head to clear the fog.

Abby gulped as Tony yanked.

"Sorry," he said apologetically.

"Tony, let me." Tony looked up in relief as Ducky came beside him, looking still woozy but clear-eyed.

"Go look after Caitlin," he said gently, glancing back.

She was still sitting upright, her head slumped onto her knees. Blood was starting to pool near her feet.

Tony scrambled over, and Ducky turned back to Abby.

"Now, Abigail," he started, eyeing the damage. He could see a splinter of bone poking just under her skin, purpling bruises beginning to show. "Do you remember that case we did a couple of years back involving tuberculosis?"

"The one with the bald Sergeant?" her head turned to look at him, and he saw the pain in her eyes.  
And the suspicion.

"Yes, Sergeant Hollingworth, I believe it was?" he carefully took grip of the edge of the tape, supporting her arms.

This would hurt, when it came. He felt her tense slightly, aware of what he was about to do.

"Abby?" he prodded.

"Yeah, James Hollingworth."

"Remind me of the case file."

"55 years of age, contracted type A tuberculosis. He got it 'cause the naval doctor-"

Ducky felt her relax slightly, distracted. He gave a furious yank.

Abby didn't scream, but he felt a shiver that went down the entire length of her body. He took a breath, feeling like a monster.

"Sorry," he said softly. She didn't answer, face pressed against the dirt.

"One more pull, and I can get your arms free," he said quietly. He could hear her harsh breathing, half choked.

"I'll do it on the count of ten, alright?"

She turned her head, looking at him through a glassy eye.

"Is this where you pretend you're going to count to ten but really yank on two?" She sounded half amused, half terrified.

He gave a weak smile. "Something like that."

Then he pulled.

* * *

Kate came quickly and queasily to consciousness, to feel Tony holding her head. His face was dirty, eyes bright with worry in the dark

Her face ached.

"He broke your nose," he told her, unnecessarily. It felt more like he'd tried to rip it off her face. Tony sat back, and she saw his fingers were covered with blood.

Her blood.

She touched her nose and gave a sharp cry of pain, eyes watering.

They all jumped as someone thumped on the door.

"No noise!"

They lay breathless, silent. There was the tap of feet slowly receding, then quiet. Tony scrambled to the door, peering underneath.

"There's about three of them outside," he said quietly.

Kate wiped the blood off her face, then caught Abby's eye.

She was leaning against the wall now, cradling her broken arm while Ducky struggled with the bonds around her feet. She was somehow more vampirish without heavy Goth make-up. Her cheeks were whiter than any powder, lips seemingly bloodless without lipstick.

"Are you alright?" she croaked

Abby smiled back shakily "Nothing a whole bunch of painkillers wouldn't cure."

Ducky gently lifted her arm, examining it.

There was nothing he could do, Kate knew; they didn't have a bandage in here, let alone the painkillers Abby needed. Kate had broken her arm falling out of a tree when she was eight, and knew how much they hurt, despite the silence of Abby's suffering.

Kate watched as Tony stood up quietly and began searching all corners of the room, looking for anything that could mean escape or a weapon. While he yanked experimentally on a metal pipe along the left wall, she assessed the damage to her nose.

The cartilage of her nose was out of joint, crushed; blood still came sluggishly.

"I wonder what they want with Gibbs," Tony mused, yanking on the pipe again. Dust drifted down from the ceiling.

"Gibbs?"

He laughed shortly. "Do the math, Kate. Five people in the team, only four of us here. Who's missing?"

"Well, McGee, actually," Abby pointed out.

He snorted, saying plainly what he thought of that idea.

Kate found herself agreeing with Tony. She'd seen it enough, families of powerful men being taken.

But Gibbs had no family, just them.

"Get to Gibbs through us," she said slowly. "Makes sense-"

"…if you're a psycopath." Abby finished said.

Ducky looked up from her arm "Blackmail, perhaps?"

"Probably; though I don't see anyone paying ransom for Tony."

Tony pulled a face at Kate.

A fist thundered at the door. Tony dropped quickly to the dirt

"No noise! Or else."

_Second warning_ Kate thought. She glanced at Tony as he got unsteadily to his feet.

They had forgotten the danger.

"Best stay quiet" Ducky mouthed at them. "Don't want to give them an excuse."

Tony said nothing, but Kate knew what he was thinking.

Their captors didn't seem to need one.


	5. Chapter 4

_**11:12 am**_

Gibbs had just broken the law.

Under his arm he had the 15kg of meth crystals, commandeered from the NCIS evidence storage.

Jail time- 3 years.

He got into his car and pulled quickly out of the NCIS car park.

There was no time to think. He had less than an hour until the first meeting, and he had nothing on the man behind this. No motives, nothing.

His phone rang again, and he answered.

"Gibbs, where are you?"

He winced. Oh great

McGee.

"Where are you?"

Gibbs said nothing, though he could hear the uncertainty and hurt in McGee's voice.

He knew Gibbs well enough to have guessed the truth.

Gibbs was keeping him out of the loop on purpose, keeping him in Abby's lab searching files to keep him safe.

"McGee, have you found the files yet?"

"No, but-"

"Keep at it. See you in an hour."

He hung up quickly, cutting McGee off. He threw his phone onto the passenger seat. Even if he had failed the rest, he could still keep the one remaining member of his team out of danger.

He wished he could turn it off, but didn't dare block communications to the… blackmailers? Abductors?

Criminals.

He sped along the highway, dodging in and out of cars. The day surgery was only 20 minutes away, but he wanted to be there, ready.

He wanted to see the face of the man who had taken his people.

Inside Abby's lab at NCIS, McGee watched grimly as the computer followed the captured signal of Gibbs mobile.  
He was going to be there, whether Gibbs wanted him or not.

20 minutes later, he raced for his car.

* * *

_**Time unknown**_

Ducky shook his head, letting Abby cradle her arm again.

"There's nothing I can do to help; I'm sorry. We could re-set the bone, but it's been a while since I've done it…"

"It's alright, I'll just sit here and think happy thoughts. Like what Gibbs is going to do when he gets hold of these..." she struggled to find a word bad enough to call them, and was surprised to find her vocabulary failed her.

Ducky smiled sadly at Abby's optimism. He doubted Gibbs would ever get the chance. Nine times out of ten the kidnapped victim didn't come back-

The door opened.

The giant came first, followed by three of the SWAT men. His helmeted head swerved from side to side, like a reptile.  
Its gaze fell on Ducky.

"Up." The voice was hissing, evil.  
Ducky felt suddenly cold.

Somehow, he knew.

"What're you doing?" Kate stood up. The man turned to meet her angry eyes.

"I've already broken your nose, Agent Todd." His voice was amused, almost teasing. "Don't give me an excuse to break something else."

She didn't move, eyeing him coldly.

Ducky could feel Abby tensing beside him, see Tony getting ready to leap for one of the soldiers gun.  
And he could almost see how he would be killed if he did.

Kate took a step forward, and guns flicked towards her. Tony moved forward, ready to attack.

"Tony, don't," Ducky said quietly.

The man laughed, a hiss that bubbled through the voice distorter.

"You should learn from the doctor, Agent DiNozzo. He knows when he is beaten."  
Tony swore at him.

The man ignored him. "Get up, Dr Mallard."

"And if I don't?"

The man took out his gun and fired in one fluid movement. Tony ducked as the wall next to him exploded into shards and dust, raining down in cutting slices.

"Next time I aim."

Silence. Kate saw Ducky's eyes go dull, and could stand it no longer.

"Ducky, don't-"

"No choice, Caitlin," he said heavily.

_But they'll kill you!_ The words somehow failed to reach her mouth, as though the moment she spoke them they would come true. Her nails bit into the heels of her hands in helpless rage. But she said nothing.

A cold numbness had settled in Ducky's mind. Abby's hand gripped his tightly for a second, comforting. They slipped away as he stood.

Three guns tracked his path as he moved forward. The giant pulled a needle out, capping it with practiced ease.

"I take it you've done this before." Ducky asked him, squaring his shoulders slightly.

The man seemed to smile through his helmet.  
"Correct, Doctor. Stick out your arm."

Ducky gave the man his arm, and watched the needle slide in.

"Jethro will kill you, you know." His voice was deathly cold as he spoked to that evil helmeted face.

Arms of leather caught him as he staggered.

"Maybe. But you won't be there to see it..." the growing darkness whispered before he was consumed.

* * *

_Australian readers, be careful when you go on fanfiction for scams. We just got one from Optus, where our number was switched to another, and we get billed for it. So effectively, this story has cost me $64.16 (Oddly enough, it's worth it.)_


	6. Chapter 5

_**11:55 am**_

The day surgery was long gone, Gibbs discovered.  
Instead, there were a dozen half made terrace houses, abandoned part way through construction.

"Perfect place for an ambush." Gibbs muttered, gazing through a gap of plywood.

His thoughts slid back towards McGee, and he felt a twinge of guilt. He was glad in some ways it was McGee who had been missed in the attack. Tony or Kate would have disobeyed orders, and come looking.

He'd been waiting for half an hour, approaching the place on foot. There was no sign of movement, no cars on the pavement.

They were waiting for him.

Cold dread settled in his stomach as he eyed the wooden skeletons of the houses.

What would he find if he walked through those buildings?

_4 people. 24 hours. You do the math._

Someone would be there, a hostage for the drugs. He glanced down at the package at his feet, then looked up quickly.

A car pulled alongside the terrace houses.

He stared intently.

It stopped for only a moment, then continued on. The person inside had dropped a package on the path.

"You can't be serious," he said, half laughing. It was the worst bait he had ever seen.

His laughter choked in his throat when McGee's car came round the corner a minute later.

_The idiot, the stupid, useless…_He fumed inwardly. _How the hell did he find me?_

The slowed the car for a fraction, then sped on. Gibbs saw his face through the window, and their eyes met through the glass.

_No,_ Gibbs warned. _Don't you dare..._

The car turned the far corner, and out of sight.

Gibbs fought the urge to stamp his foot in frustration.  
God save him from people who wouldn't obey orders…

His phone rang.

He glanced down.  
KATE TODD.

"You're a bastard, you know that?" he said by way of greeting.

There was a short laugh. "_Why are you hiding behind that shop front, Jethro?"_

The hideous mechanical voice. Lightly teasing, and full of lazy arrogance.

"Who's hiding?" he said back, voice calm and cool as he wasn't feeling.

"Boss?" He shot a glance behind him, brows snapping together in an almost audible clash.  
McGee had found him, sneaking in the back way just like he had done.

He gave McGee a glare that would have melted steel, but it was too late.

_"Who's there with you?"_ the voice was suddenly sharp.

Gibbs sighed through gritted teeth. "He's my agent."

Silence. McGee seemed to have realised something was wrong, standing silent. He was pale faced and sweating.  
Gibbs's heart thundered in the quiet.

_"You brought someone with you."_

"He followed." Gibbs snapped through gritted teeth.

A pause.

_"Who is he?"_ Gibbs stood still, feeling suddenly cold. There was a masty hint of menace behind that innocent tone.

"That's none of your concern."  
Silence. They were considering.

_"Fine. Tell him to stay. Come out."_

Gibbs turned to McGee, who cowered under Gibb's glare of fury.

"Stay, and don't you dare interfere with this." He leant forward, eyes hard. "Or I'll hold you accountable for anything that happens."

McGee took a step back, chastised. Gibbs left, not leaving him any time to speak.

He walked out from behind the boards, phone still pressed against his ear.  
The street was deserted, but someone was watching.

_"Leave your weapons on the pavement with your package,"_ the voice ordered._ "Pick up the one left on the ground, and walk into the construction site."_  
Dial tone.

Gibbs obeyed, carefully taking out his gun and leaving it in plain view with the crystal meth. As he walked forward he wished he had a backup plan.

_Or even a first plan would be nice..._

The package was oddly shaped. He hefted it as he walked through the gates of the construction sight, wondering how much damage it would do to a skull if he threw it.

As he walked, he felt the stiffness that comes when someone's eyes are drilling into your skull. His eyes flicked, but he saw nothing.

Then he saw Ducky.

The doctor was sitting on the second floor of one of the skeleton houses, bound hand and foot. There was a thin trail of blood down the side of his face from a wound on his head.

He saw Gibbs instantly, and jerked his head to the right.

Gibbs glanced over.

Three men stood on a metal scaffold, dressed in black SWAT uniform. One stood a head taller than the others, flanked by the other two.

Two automatic rifles came into view, pointed at Gibbs.

He flinched as a laser light hit his eye. He glanced down and saw it flicker across his chest.

Sniper.

"Isn't it a bit excessive, to have two gunmen and a sniper?" he called, challenging.

The giant gave a shrug. "Maybe." He regarded Gibbs. "Who was the agent?" he demanded.

"What agent?"

The giant took his gun and loaded it, pointing the dangerous end at Ducky.

"Don't play games with me, Jethro. Who is your agent."

"Agent Robert Standing."

He felt his enemies gaze harden. Gibbs felt the hard intelligence behind the gaze, cold and calculating.  
This man would not be tricked easily.

His head moved as he regarded Gibbs. "Are you telling me the truth, Gibbs?" his voice was soft, deadly. "Because if when I search NCIS records there is no one by the name of Standing who looks like him, one of your agents will regret it."

He let it sink in.

"Now, let me repeat the question. Who is your agent?"

Gibbs jaw went tight, and he thought quickly. The man laoded the gun, and Ducky flinched.  
He forced the words out, hating it. "Agent McGee."

"Good." That seemed to be all he needed. "Now, do you know why you are here?"

"Actually, no."

The man cocked his head, amused.

"Give you a hint," he mocked. "Has something to do with drugs."

Gibbs growled deep in his throat. He wasn't going to know what this was really about anytime soon. He decided to go along with it.

"I know why I'm here, but I don't know why he is." Gibbs jerked his head towards Ducky.

"I'd like to know that too, actually." Gibbs heard him mutter.

"You have caused my employer grievances in the past, Gunnery Sargent Leeroy Jethro Gibbs."

"You mean the Cardinal?" Gibbs could have sworn the man was surprised.  
Correct answer.

"I haven't done anything to him." His eyes bored through the flatmetal of the helmet. "Neither has Dr Mallard, Abby, Tony or Kate. They're innocent."

There was a harsh snarl of laughter. "Nobody's innocent, Agent Gibbs. Open the package."

Gibbs did, then frowned.

A broken bottle?

"Do you know what that is, Gibbs?"  
Gibbs said nothing.

"That's one of three dozen bottles one of my employer's men landed on when he jumped from the surgery. I'm sure you remember."

Gibbs shot a glance at Ducky.

There was a laugh.

"I see you've already worked it out. Under the boards of the second floor there is a small explosive device, ready to bring your doctor down onto..."

Three dozen bottles…

Gibbs measured the distance, and knew with sick dread he'd never get there in time.

The man continued. There was a smug, triumphant edge to his voice that made Gibbs shake with fury.

"Though since the distance is slightly shorter than when our doctor fell, we've prebroken the bottles as a precaution. He might be lucky, and live."  
Gibbs glared into the darkened glass of the helmet, willing himself to see the face of the man inside.  
"…or not."

He resettled himself, enjoying the drama and tension like it was a play.

"An Eye for an Eye, Gibbs. The explosives will go off in one and a half minutes. Go."

Gibbs was already gone.

* * *

On the second floor of the building, Ducky pulled on the ropes with all his might. He had heard ever word between the two men, and knew his time was up.

He glanced down, and saw through the boards the glass bottles glinting in the sunlight, waiting for him.

They had nailed the bonds of his feet to the board. He yanked, swearing as sweat poured from his temples.

One pulled free.  
_How much time left?_

He half stood. Yanking at the other foot. The board creaked and moaned.

They didn't budge.

Gibbs thundered towards him, but he was too far away.

Someone else rocketed up the stairs.

"McG-" Ducky started to say in surprise, before the agent barreled into him. Knocking him free. They fell against the back wall…

The explosion rumbled through the house in a slow, shuddering wave.  
Splinters flew as the house groaned. The boards beneath their feet disintegrated.

They fell.


	7. Chapter 6

_**12:34 pm**_

The director of NCIS parked his car across the street from the construction site, watching the second ambulance pull inside.

He had found Gibbs, it seemed.

The construction sight was crawling with police and NCIS officers. Gibbs was sitting on a stretcher, impatiently watching the paramedic bandage up his arm. Blood ran from cuts on his face, but he didn't seem to care. His eyes were locked on the ambulance parked beside the ruins of the house.

Another stretcher over, Ducky was arguing with a paramedic.

"Just tape it up, will you?"

"Dr Mallard, you've sprained your ankle."

"Do you know of Louis XIV?"

"What?"

"Walked around for years without removing his socks. One day, he took them off and his toes went with them."

The paramedic gazed at him, mouth slightly open.

"If he managed to walk, so can I. Tape it."

"So, this is where you got to, Gibbs." The director's voice was soft, almost friendly.

"Thank you." Gibbs said to the paramedic, sliding briskly off the stretcher. He met the director's eyes, face wisely blank.

"Tell me, why did I receive a call from Metro PD this afternoon telling me that two of my employees had been found inside an exploded building on a construction site?" His voice was companionable, calm and even.

Gibbs braced himself. "That's what I'd like to know, sir."

The director dropped the act.

"Where are they." It was not a question. His voice was hard, cold, and brutal.

"Who?"

"Agent's Todd and DiNozzo and Abby Sciuto. Why are two agents and one of our best forensic scientists missing from our office?"

To his surprise, Gibbs didn't glare. He looked- upset?

"I don't know."

He was momentarily perplexed. "You what?"

"They didn't come into the office today. There was no answer from their mobiles or home phone numbers."

Gibbs spoke as though he was relaying the events of a crime of which he had no emotional or physical participation in. But the Director could hear the rage, barely detectable, in his voice, see the subtle lines of tension of a man that was very, very angry.

"Agent McGee and I went to the house of Agent Todd and found blood on the floor and walls."

"And where is Agent McGee right now?"

Gibbs looked over to the ambulance, and his jaw went tight. "He's unconscious."

McGee had been more than unconscious when he'd pulled him out of the wreckage. He'd been bloody.

_He shouldn't have even been there,_ he thought, though there was no anger towards him. He'd saved Ducky's life.

The Director looked from the ambulance to Ducky, to the iron lipped hard eyed Gibbs, and shook his head.

"And you didn't mention any of this to someone because…"

"There was a Videotape."

"I see." Though it was plain he didn't.

"It suggested that to actively engage in police or NCIS help would be exceedingly dangerous to the hostages."

"Hostages? How many are there?"

"This morning there were four. Now there are three. Agents Todd and DiNozzo, and Abigail Scuito."

The director turned to Ducky, who had hobbled to stand beside Gibbs.

"How are you feeling, Dr Mallard?"

"Better," he said shortly, eyeing the director.

The director rubbed his head, with the air that this was going to be a very long day.

"Damn." He glanced at Gibbs.

"Do you have the tape?"

* * *

_**Time Unknown.**  
_  
_Thump. Thump. Thump._

The guard glanced up, scowling.

One of the prisoners was banging on the inside of the door.

Annoyed, he turned back to _Days of our Lives_, wishing he could turn the volume on. His companion growled under his breath, trying to study from his college reader. What they were doing was giving him mixed feelings, and he preferred not to think about it. The noise wasn't helping any.

_Thump. Thump._

The second guard turned a page. "Shut'm up, will you?"

Irritated, the first reached over and grabbed the voice distorter, putting it on along with the SWAT helmet.

He banged on the metal door.

"Shut up!"

_Thump. Thump. Thump. Thu-_

He'd had enough. Gripping his gun he grabbed the door handle, intending to take a warning shot.

The door half opened, then cracked across his face.

* * *

He went down.

Tony grabbed him, pulling him inside as the second guard shouted, grabbing his gun and firing.

Sparks flew as it hit the slamming metal door.

Inside, Tony braced himself against the door. Kate and Abby rolled the unconscious guard over, searching frantically through his pockets. Tony grunted as the guard outside through himself against the door.

"Hand radio." Kate thrust it at Abby, who quickly backed into a corner. Her left hand held it awkwardly, her thumb searching for a frequency.

Tony flinched at the second bang, arms already aching. The door juddered under his arms, barely holding.

"Gun, where'd the gun go?" he shouted over the thumping.

Kate scrambled for it, grabbing it from the floor. Holding it tight, she grabbed the man's knife. She stood and pushed it into Tony's hand.

The hand radio whined, coughing and crackling.

_"There's someone on the line-"_

"Hey, anyone? Hello-"

There was a buzz of static, and Abby retuned with her thumb.

"Hello?" she repeated, frantic. She could see the strain on Tony's face, and knew he couldn't hold out for much longer. Kate dragged the guard to the far wall.

A jabber of voices, a bubbling hiss of electricity. Her knuckles were white as she retuned.  
Kate joined Tony against the door. Their heels dug in as the guard threw himself at the door.

It rattled violently.

"Abby, quick!" Kate could hear the shouts of more guards coming.

Abby crouched, listening intently.

_"Hey, you're on police frequency-"_

"I know, but-"

_"If you don't get off we will pursue discipl-"_

"Listen, you need to contact Gibbs from NCIS."

_"What-"_

Static.

"NCIS!"

The door moaned as another guard started to push. Tony leant over and jabbed at the flickering gap between the door, stabbing at the guards. There was a snarl, and a deafing bang as someone shot through the gap.

_"Who are you? What's happening?"_ the voice was alarmed.

"My name is Abby Sciuto." She said it loudly and clearly, praying. "We got abducted. We're in a room underground-"

Static. She tried again.

They couldn't hold much longer.

"Ready Kate?" Tony said through gritted teeth.  
She nodded, quickly taking three steps back.

He strained against the door for a final moment.

Then he leapt back.

The door slammed wide. Two guards burst through, the first going down by a shot from Kate. Tony grabbed the other, slashing with the knife.

But more came.

Half a dozen in the room, guns out.

Kate expected to be dead within seconds.

But none of them fired. Instead, they used their weapons as clubs. One caught her across the head. She staggered back, half blind. She raised the gun, but knew she couldn't fire in the confusion in case she hit Tony or Abby.

The gun was knocked from her hands, and she was backed against a wall.

Two guns hovered before her face. They waited, daring her to move. Her eyes darted, flicking through the chaos.

Abby covered her head as a blow fell, trapped against the wall. The radio was smashed by her feet.

Tony wrenched the knife from the throat of a man as he fell, and Kate saw the man behind raise his gun.

Her heart stopped.

"Tony!" She started forward, and an arm caught her across the chest. She was thrown back, lights exploding.

She hit the ground. Her ears buzzed. She couldn't see Tony in the dark, but it was suddenly quiet.

Distantly, she could hear Abby. She was swearing at the men. Her obscenities morphed into a shriek.

The sound echoed and re-echoed until it was nothing.  
Kate's head lolled, and she passed out.


	8. Chapter 7

Sorry for the delay. Exams. Though I improved in Chemistry! 60 Woot!

This chapter is dedicated To Moviefreak9940 and for politely reminding me of the story, and to my sister for coming and looking over my shoulder every now and then and asking "Have you hurt McGee yet?"

* * *

**1:01 pm**

199615KGHAWKSHEAD

The words faded from the screen. The director flicked it off.

"You should have told me, Jethro," he said.

"I know. There was no time to think, sir." The director watched Gibbs's foot jiggle impatiently.

He sighed, leant back, resisting the urge to rub his temples.

"Agents have gone to their homes, and I've called in the FBI." He leant forward. "But understand that you will still have to be our front man-"

"Of course." Gibbs was impatient.

Barely five hours.

* * *

Ducky waited outside the directors office, still nursing a headache. The adrenalin had faded, bringing back the pain. An agent- Olsen- came and handed him coffee.

"They still in there."

"Yes, er…"

"Stan" he said. He glanced up, then quickly backtracked at the thunderous look on Gibbs face as he left the directors office.

It changed to tight-jawed concern. "You alright, Duck?"

He sat up, smiling a lopsided smile at Gibbs.

"Just a bump to the head, Jethro," he said, standing up quickly.

Too quickly.

Gibbs caught his arm as he swayed.

"Just a bump?" he repeated, mouth twisting wryly.

"I'll be fine. Better than poor Timothy, they don't think he will wake up for another hour or so."

Gibbs sat him down again. They hadn't had a proper chance to talk about what had happened. Now, Gibbs eyes were intense as he focused on Ducky.

"How were they?"

Ducky looked unhappy. "Abby's arm was badly broken, as was Caitlin's nose. Tony seemed fine, apart from a few scratches."

"Where were you?"

"A room, basement maybe. I don't know where, we just woke up in it."

Gibbs grew more agitated as he spoke.

"What about the people who took you?" Ducky saw the rage building in Gibbs's eyes, and wondered what would happen if Gibbs ever got hold of them.

He shook his head. "Wearing those uniforms. Couldn't tell you anything." His voice was quiet, bitter. He thought back to Kate, Tony and Abby, still stuck in that little room, still at the mercy of those monsters.

Gibbs was pacing now. Energy seemed to crackle around him, charged with anger.

"Go through it. Everything that happened."

"Of course." Ducky suddenly remembered. "But first-"

How could he have forgotten? The thing had been taped across his arm while he was barely conscious.

Ducky thrust it at Gibbs. "This was intended for you, I think."

1997MCUNNINGHAM.

Gibbs stared at it blankly. This meant nothing to him. He thought for a moment, then grabbed a agent Olsen, who had been hovering nearby.

"Get Ab-"

He stopped. Ducky saw the almost imperceptible tightening of his jaw.

"Get one of the technicians up here, and put a trace on this phone." He handed it to the man. As the agent left, Ducky raised his eyebrows at Gibbs.

"I have a feeling he'll be calling back," was all he said.

* * *

**_Time Unknown_**

Someone was tapping her face. She moaned.

"Kate, wake up. Tony's on your computer."

Her eyes snapped open. "He _what?!"_

Abby hovered above her, smiling wickedly.

"Oh good, I though I might have to start poking you next."

She was still, disoriented. Memories filtered back as she gazed up at Abby.

Her eyes were unnatural bright, slightly glazed. She was pale, ill looking, though more cheerful then before.

Kate suddenly remembered why she was on the floor. "Did it work?"

"I think so. The guy on the other end…" Abby sat back, hand going to her head. She had gone suddenly white.

"You okay Abby?"

"Sure…" she replied, though Kate thought she saw her sway. She looked at her arm, and swallowed bile.

More splintered bone, more blood seeping out, unhealthily red and bright. It looked as though one of the guard had stomped…

"Abby, your arm…"

She heard the shallowness of her breath, saw thin pinpricks that were her pupils.

Abby took a breath.

"It's alright, as long as I don't think about it."

Kate opened her mouth, but her eyes begged him not to pursue it.

Instead she sat up gingerly, feeling the fat swollen thing that represented the left half of her face.

"Where's Tony?"

Abby's smile dropped. "He looks bad, Kate."

She looked.

Tony was stretched out three feet away, unmoving. She crawled over painfully.

Eyes closed, his face turned away. Kate touched his forehead, relieved to feel heat, then became worried because it was too much heat.

She turned his head, and saw the blow.

It must have come from a gun. The handle had left purple bruises, mottled, ugly, and spreading.

"Bastards," she snarled. She wished she could have just one minute, and she'd make them pay for this, Abby's arm…

…Ducky…

"It should just be a concussion, but I don't know. I'm only forensics," Abby sat across from him, left hand hovering above the bruise. She looked up, wistful. "Guess I should have done something else, huh?"

"I hope not. Otherwise you wouldn't have known about the radio, and we'd still be sitting here without anyone having the faintest idea where we were."

"We're still sitting here. Though your face would probably look less squishy."

"You say it like that's a good thing…"

They looked down.

Tony was awake, though looking very sick.

"Oh man…" He winced and touched his head.

Instinctively he tried to sit up, but was pushed back down.

"Just stay still for a while…"

It felt like a swarm of wasps were inside his skull, buzzing and stinging. His cheekbone was on fire.

_At least they missed my nose…_he thought blearily, eyes shutting as nausea swept over him.

Next time he opened his eyes, Abby had vanished from his side.

"Abby. Abby!" Kate leapt over him. He rolled over and saw Abby holding onto the wall, face bloodless.

"I think I'm going to be sick…" she said faintly. Kate caught her as she slipped.

_Blood loss… _Tony tried to sit up, and felt the world sway. Stars exploded in front of his eyes.

"Dammit," he muttered, trying to stay conscious.

He shook her head; the stars cleared. He dragged himself over to them.

Abby's eyes had rolled up in her head.

"Jesus…" Kate lay her down. Abby was motionless.

"Tony, what do we do?" she whispered, frantic.

Tony wished he knew.

* * *

**2:40 pm**

"Hey, Gibbs."

Gibbs didn't have to look up from his computer to know that voice.

Fornell.

"Nice to see you." Gibbs said, for once sounding sincere.

Always handy to have a man with lots of friends with guns helping you.

Fornell glanced over at Tony and Kate's desks.

"So, who'd you piss off this time?" he asked wryly.

"You ever heard of The Cardinal?" Gibbs asked him.

The sound of the name turned Fornell very grim indeed. He took Kate's chair, dragging it in front of Gibbs desk and sitting down.

"You think this is the Cardinal?" His voice was soft.

Gibbs took out the video.

"Oh, I know it is."

Again the green-lit abductions played on the screens. Gibbs turned away, watching instead Fornells face. It became gradually tighter as the video ran.

Fornell stopped it, eyes dark.

"I hear Dr Mallard nearly fell on- what was it?"

"Three dozen broken bottles."

He shook his head. "Always was a sick bastard."

He focused on Gibbs. "But why now? Why you?" he asked, voicing the very questions inside Gibbs head.

Why indeed.

"How many hours until the next…meeting?" He glanced at Gibbs's computer, to the list of operations Gibbs had been involved in during 1997.

"3 hours. We don't know when or what yet, though. The last message was more-"

His mobile rang.

KATE TODD

Immediately, activity buzzed around him. Two technicians shoved a recording device on the ground, tuning it rapidly. Another at Tony's desk readied the tracking program.

The phone rang twice more. He glared at the two technicians.

"Hurry up!" he snarled, afraid they might hang up.

"Ready-"

He answered.

"Hello?"

Silence.

He glanced up, watching the technician with the tracer. Her eyes were narrowed, focused on the screen.

"_We want money this time. $40,000_."

"I'll see what I can do." Gibbs said calmly. Fornell watched, slightly impressed at the steel in Gibbs voice.

"_Good. Be seeing you_."

"Wait-"

They hung up.

Gibbs threw the phone down in disgust, then stared at the technician. She looked up, shaking her head in frustration.

"They sent the signal through about three different satellites. Phone conversation wasn't long enough to get an accurate-"

"How accurate?" Gibbs's voice was so rough she flinched.

"The signal was pretty local. As far north as Virginia, south as Norfolk, West as Ohio."

"You're not going to get this guy with techniques like that."

Gibbs turned to Fornell, rage at being no closer to finding his people barely in check.

"What do you suggest I do?" he asked acidly.

Fornell leant back.

"I wish I knew." He saw the fury in Gibb's face. "Don't worry, we'll bring them to justice.

Gibbs looked at him, but said nothing.

Gibbs was Grim faced as he sat back down.

He didn't want Justice.

He wanted to find them and break their fingers one by one.


	9. Chapter 8

_**Time Unknown**_

Tony paced restlessly like a cat caught inside during a storm, every now and then wrenching vainly at the metal pipes.

He could feel time running out.

"Dammit, what's this stuff made of?" he snarled, kicking the wall in frustration.

"I think the general term is concrete," Kate mumbled, holding her head in her hands. She was starving, aching all over and in desperate need of something caffinated.

"You're just sitting there?" Tony snapped at her.

She didn't move "I'm thinking."

"Looks a lot like sittin' around on your ass…"

She looked up, glaring. "What would you rather me do? Attack one of the guards with a metal pole?" She put her head on the side as though considering. "Oh wait, they have guns. Nice idea, Tony," she mocked.

He glared right back. "I didn't see you arguing with the idea."

She looked over at Abby, motionless by the far wall. Her sharp, panting breaths left a fog in the air, mangled arm prostrate in front of her.

"I should have." she said softly. There was guilt in her voice.

Tony opened his mouth to say it wasn't her fault, and then shut it. She wouldn't believe him anyway. "Besides, they can't kill us."

"What?"

"They all had guns, but they seemed perfectly content to use them like clubs." He leant forward, eyes shining in a way Kate didn't like.

"They weren't allowed shoot us, the guns were all for show. They can hurt us, but not kill us."

"So what happened to Ducky?" Kate challenged, though her voice cracked at his name.

Tony looked away. "My best guess? They take us out one by one, then leaves us somewhere nice for Gibbs to find-"

"Tony!"

He shrugged, as though it was nothing. "Saw heaps of stuff like it when I was with the cops." He regretted speaking in anger now. The horror on Kate's face burned a guilty hole in his stomach.

He sat down, suddenly tired. He deflated, anger seeping away.

"How long have we been here?" he wondered.

"At least 8 hours." Kate said. Tony glanced at her, his anger falling away. She looked like crap, eyes nearly swollen shut and blood all over her shirt.

She was exhausted. They both were. Exhausted and terrified so they snapped at each other like rats in a cage.

Abby twitched. Since their attempt at freedom, she had been drifting in and out of consciousness. The pain of her broken arm was getting a hold over her. Her head listed slightly, eyes flickering.

"Oh, we're still here," she said, disappointed.

"How are you feeling?" Kate asked her, glancing down at her arm. She'd cleaned off most of the blood while Abby had been asleep but the cut looked nasty. Her hand felt Abby's forehead, then drew back from the burning heat.

"I need a Caf-Pow. Or drugs, drugs would be nice. All needl-ised and tingly…"

Abby gazed at them blearily, confused.

She was half-delirious.

"I think it's getting infected." Tony came up beside them, anxious.

"It's only been, what, 9 hours since she got it. Nothing gets infected that fast." Kate snapped, worried. Abby's eyes half closed, head starting to droop.

"Note the 'getting', not 'is'. Its not infected yet, but it will be. This mud's probably got in it." He peered at the wound, grimacing at the shard of bone.

"Besides, we don't even know how she got it in the first place-"

"Door." Abby mumbled.

"What?"

"Caught me trying to get out of the van. Slammed the door shut on my arm…"

Kate winced as Tony sat up, intent. "Wait, what van?"

But Abby seemed to have lost her train of thought. Her eyes began to slide shut.

"Poor McGee…"

"McGee? What about us?"

Abby seemed to clear her head slightly, focusing on Tony's annoyed face.

"Were all going to die, and he's going to be the only one left. Him and Gibbs."

"We're not-" Kate cut herself off.

She couldn't bring herself to lie.

Tony could "We're not going to die, Abbs."

She made a coughing noise, what they supposed was a laugh.

"Liar." there was no anger in her voice. "They killed Ducky."

"We don't know that," She glanced at Tony, who shook his head and kept his mouth shut on his theory.

"More like he killed them, knowing Ducky. Talked them into comatose." Tony muttered.

Abby laughed, then covered her eyes. Her body started to shake.

Kate gave her a half hug, careful of her arm. "Don't worry. We'll see him again."

"Not if we die first," Kate heard Tony mutter as he stood, heading back to the metal pipes.

There was nothing she could say to that.

She closed her eyes at the bang of metal as Tony started to yank at the pipes. Abby slipped gradually back into a dazed sleep, her head leant back against the wall. The exposed white skin of her throat seeming to glow against the darkness of her tattoo.

The creak of metal stopped. Kate glanced across the room to Tony, who had sunk back to the floor. Elbows on his knees, he gazed back with hopeless eyes.

His words had fallen flat, leaving them silent, scared.

_Not if we die first._

They sat back against the cold concrete walls. Waiting, thinking desperately for an escape.

And all the while they waited for the door to open

* * *

**_5:12 pm_**

"Sandwiches for you, Jethro."

Gibbs looked up from the computer screen, wiping his stinging eyes. Ducky put the tuna sandwich on his desk, then peered at the screen. He was looking much better now, dressed in fresh clothes and cleaned up of blood and dirt. His tattered outfit had been taken to Forensics.

"No luck?" he asked quietly. Gibbs shook his head. Then he suddenly straightened.

McGee had at last made it back.

He had fared worse than Ducky in the fall; his hand was bandaged, face peppered with cuts. Gauze was taped roughly over his left eye.

"Hey Boss." he said with a lopsided grin that was oddly reminiscent of Tony's.

Gibbs looked him up and down, then focused on his eye.

"How bad is it?"

McGee sat down at his desk, scratching absently at the gauze.

"Ah, nothing too bad. Probably have to be covered for about two weeks though; dust particles from the broken glass got in."

All the while he spoke his eyes had been darting around the bullpen; to the two technicians crammed behind Kate's desk, to Agent Olsen who was slowly battling through the huge NCIS database of files for any references to Cunningham.

And finally to Gibbs and Ducky, who wore matching expressions of defeat.

"…Has there been… any news?" he said with difficulty.

"None, I'm afraid." Ducky started to fill him in on what had happened during his brief unconsciousness, which was to say not a lot. NCIS was divided onto those who were gathering forensics from Ducky's own house, as well as those still missing, to those searching through what remained of then files on the Cardinal, to Gibbs own crew who were searching for the next meeting point.

Even with the help of Fornell and the FBI, they were ridiculously understaffed for the task.

And time was running out. Cunningham was too popular a name; even cutting down to the cases Gibbs had had a connection with, they had half a dozen cases, and no where to start.

For the past hour, a pain had started to build in Gibbs's chest. There just wasn't enough time…

Ducky sighed, sitting down on a box of files beside Gibbs desk.

"No leads from forensics," he said tiredly. "They're swamped under all of the items they have to test." He looked irritated, shifting restlessly.

"I dislike sitting around useless. They have me and Mr Palmer delivering sandwiches." He gave a snort of contempt. "I wish there was something I could do-"

"No," Gibbs said quietly, staring at his computer screen. "You don't."

McGee shivered. The thought of Ducky having to autopsy Tony, Kate or Abby was-

"Gibbs!" one of the agents occupying Kate's desk looked excited.

"The Virgina Police Department just sent us a recording of a rogue message they got on their frequency-"

He tapped on his computer rapidly. Silence fell in the bullpen as sound crackled over the computer speakers.

"_..cleared up the domestic disturbance, but-"_

_There was a buzz of static, and garbled voices._

"_What's that?" _

"_There's someone on the line…"_

"_Hey, anyone? Hello?"_

Abby's voice crackled over the speakers, buzzing with every word.

They stiffened.

"_What the hell-"  
_"_You getting this?"_

"_Hello?" Abby again, frantic_

Shouts in the background, the shriek of metal. Gibbs could have sworn he heard Kate's voice.

He shut his eyes, listening to the roars of static and thuds of metal.

"_-you need to contact Gibbs…NCIS.."_

"_What?"_

"_NCIS! You need to give this transmission to Gibbs, he-"_

Gunshots in the background.

Shouts.

_"Hey, what's happening? Hello!"_

No answer.

Gibbs was leaning over the computer now, ear next to the speaker.

"_Jesus, this for real?"_

_"That's it, I'm calling the super-"_

_"Tony!"_ Kate's voice floated over the clash of noise, but was abruptly cut short. Abby swore.

Then she screamed.

Ducky and McGee stared at each other, horror struck.

Static whines, then there was a crunch.

The transition ended.

* * *

A second of unearthly quiet. Agents listening in exchanged glances, but didn't say a word.

Gibbs spoke.

"Play it again."

Ducky felt a chill at his voice, recognised the obsession.  
He looked at the Gunnery Sergeant, and saw something burning in his eyes, a fierce intensity.

That was good, he knew. Gibbs on the warpath would not stop until he caught up with the bastards, making them pay. But it also meant that if he failed, he would turn it in on himself.

Gibbs listened intently as Abby's voice crackled over the speaker again,

"_You need to give this transmission to Gibbs, he-"_

Gibbs frowned.

He… what?

Why had Abby tried to send him the message? His knuckles kneaded his forehead as the message played again.

McGee flinched each time it was played.

"What kind of device was it sent from?" Gibbs asked slowly. An idea was somewhere at the back of his mind, just flickering into view.

The agent shrugged. "Localised radio. Only for short distances, nothing long range."

Gibbs blinked, and there it was.

Localised radio. Meaning it had to be only a short distance from the police radio.

Gibbs rounded on the agent, eyes glowing feverishly.

"Where was the police car when it received the transmission?"

"About 100 miles north of here, why?"

"Find out what type of radio it was, and its range. It'll give us-"

The agent had already caught on. His eyes glowed.

"Genius," he said admirably as his fingers flew over the keyboard. "Absolutely brilliant…"

Gibbs felt elated. They were closer. This gave them a radius, an area to search.

He looked at his watch, and felt a jolt.

5:29 pm. Only half an hour.

"Gibbs!"

Agent Olsen looked up from Tony's computer. He was grining.

"I think I found something."

_**

* * *

Time Unknown. **_

Another hour gone.

Tony knew their cell very well by now.

Six paces from door to the back wall, Eight from left to right; two metal pipes on the left wall, placed too firmly.

A bucket in the corner, which they guessed was supposed to be used as a toilet. There was a silent agreement that it was for emergency only. The stench of petrol was bad enough; Tony didn't like to think what the smell would be like with the addition of something else.

And a door, metal plated and cold. Light leaked through the sides, but the cracks showed only the concrete supports of the door.

Tony was slumped against the wall, lost in daydreams of pizza and French fries. His stomach protested against this torment, but he couldn't stop. He couldn't remember being so hungry it hurt. His throat rasped, like sandpaper.

It had gotten chilly in the room, and darker if that was possible.

_It must be evening soon_, he thought drearily. Nearly a whole day in their prison…

Kate was pacing back and forwards, rubbing her arms. She kept glancing at the door.

Tony shifted slightly, carefully; Abby's head was lolled against his shoulder. He took a breath, and caught a whiff of perfume. It seemed unreal, like a hallucination; it was a smell connected to NCIS and (relative) safety.

Not here.

He breathed in again. It smelled oddly like a cross between red wine and charcoal…

_A memento memory, just in case?_ The thought popped nastily into his head, and he scowled.

_We're not going to die._

Part of him laughed in derision.

He straightened suddenly, accidentally knocking Abby awake.

"What?" she blinked, disoriented.

"Someone's coming."

The sound of marching footsteps echoed and re-echoed like a drumbeat. Abby slumped, too tired to care.

The door opened. Tony saw Kate flinch as the light hit her face. A soldier herded her back against the wall, gun poked in her mid-drift.

Tony half-stood in alarm, but was ushered back by a gun.

"Down, DiNozzo."

He gave a small twitch at his name.

The tall man towered over them.

His eyes fell on Abby. Tony felt her start to shiver.

"Nice trick, by the way." There was a smirk in his voice. Tony felt a chill, muscles tensing.

"Don't you touch her." Tony stood up, ignoring the guns at his chest. The leader waved them back, and they stood face to face.

He towered over him, truly a giant. Tony stood his ground, glaring up into his face.

"Tony-" Kate started, alarmed. She was cut off.

"What are you going to do against me?" the man asked, genuinely curious. "You're unarmed."

"Beats me," Tony shrugged, and Kate saw a dangerous glint in his eye. "Let see what comes up."

Tony threw a punch, a surprise blow. The man's head snapped back, and Tony kicked him in the mid-drift. The man collapsed.

Tony had grabbed for the gun in the man's belt, but got no further, dragged back by a soldier.

On the floor, the man touched the side of his helmet. It was dented inward. His head turned to Tony, who was nursing bleeding knuckles and struggling in the guard's grip.

He stood slowly. "That was very stupid," he told Tony.

"I know. I didn't get the gun. Let's try again." Tony grinned at him, inviting him to take a shot. He would pay, but it was worth it just to hit than arrogant face.

Besides, if he got hit, he could call the man the coward he was.

The man didn't rise to the bait, though his hands balled into tight fists. "You can wait. I'll think up something nice for you." He told Tony, a touch of savagery in his voice.

Turning his back, he looked to Abby.

The gun in Tony's side pressed harder, warning him.

The man knelt, his face level with Abby's. Her eyes were glazed, watching him without expression as he took out a needle.

"Not a word." The soldier behind Tony hissed to Kate. She muttered something, and there was the sound of leather hitting skin. He heard her gasp.

Abby gazed into the ethereal face, feeling her heart shiver. Her arm rose to hit him, but it was a sluggish blow. He caught her arm, dragging her forward. He was so close her breath fogged on the black glass of his helmet.

"You killed Ducky," she said, as if to brand it in fog on his face.

The helmet leered back with hollow eyes. The man beneath it pushed the needle under her skin, eyes not leaving her face.

"I'm going to kill you, too."


	10. Chapter 9

_**5:44 pm**_

"This is it?"

Gibbs looked unimpressed, staring through the car window as they stopped at a set of lights.

"That's it," said Fornell.

Across two lanes of traffic was a swimming pool.

It was a relatively new building, one of the glass and chrome architectural masterpieces Gibbs despised with a passion that nearly matched that he reserved for his ex-wives. But new meant computerised floor plans; easier to access.

The lights changed, and they moved on. Gibbs glanced over at McGee, who was tapping rapidly on his laptop. Files flickered up and across his screen as he desperately tried to condense the information His fingers were jittery, nervously returning to the backspace key repeatedly.

"You nervous, McGee?"

"Yes, sir," he replied without thinking, then winced.

Gibbs felt his lip twitch. Even now, McGee was unfailingly honest. His eyes flicked forward watching the swimming pool receed in the rear view mirror.

McGee's eyes were drawn back to the computer screen. A dead marine stared back from the screen, solemn in his uniform. Alex Cunningham.

But the file wasn't about him; it concerned his son.

Gibbs had told him only briefly what happened. Petty officer Alex Cunningham had been part of a drugs scheme, trafficking between countries. A drug mule, but a dangerous one. Two years ago Gibbs had been part of an investigation that led to his attempted arrest, while he had been at the swimming pool.

It had been horribly botched.

Cunningham had been with his family, but that hadn't stopped him pulling weapons. There was a fight.

In the chaos, his five-year-old son had fallen and drowned.

Gibbs had stopped the story then; his eyes had gone dark, and he stared out the window. It was Fornell who told McGee that marine Alex Cunningham had screamed his rage during the court trial, swearing vengeance.

He never got it. He hung himself in prison a year later.

The car pulled to a stop inside the parking lot of the pool. If McGee looked hard, he could see the faint movements of men shifting in their positions.

Gibbs put the earpiece in, the voices of FBI and NCIS agents filling his ears.

Everything was nearly ready.

The plan was, as always, simple in theory; Gibbs went in, while FBI and NCIS surrounded the place. Gibbs wore a microphone that played in Fornell's ear. He would send the combined forced in, if things got nasty. They had the floor plans, knew every exit and entrance. The man and his people would be trapped.

Simple.

Gibbs had the package on his lap, waiting. The sounds of agents scoping the area whispered in his ears, but he ignored them.

Their car was silent, tense. He could see sweat forming on the back of Fornell's neck.

Gibb's mobile rang. He took it out of his pocket, feeling the eyes of Fornell and McGee on him.

TONY DINOZZO.

He answered.

_"I thought I said tell no-one, Agent Gibbs._" The voice whispered gently in his ear, hissing with menace.

There was an echo in his earpiece, and the voices fell into a stunned silence.

"He's broadcasting the phone conversation," he heard Fornell mutter. Fornell glared at McGee. "You said this would be a closed frequency."

McGee started to stammer a reply, but Gibbs didn't hear it.

_"This poses a dilemma for us. You've broken our terms of agreement."_

"It's very hard to keep things quiet when you fall through a building." Gibbs said acidly, feeling a bead of sweat slink from his neck.

_Damn, damn…_

They had hoped they would be early enough to avoid detection. Apparently not.

There was silence, then a chuckle. _"Point taken. We will go forward as planned, with a few changes. You and your agent – McGee - will come. The rest must stay."_

Gibbs looked at McGee, who's face had turned white.

"And to the FBI agents listening in…"

Fornell swore.

_"Stay out. Otherwise-"_

Two gunshots echoed over Gibbs earpiece, followed by a choked noise.

_"They shot Cornwall!"  
"Agent down-"  
"Return fire!"_ The sounds of submachine guns echoed in Gibbs ear and across the empty carpark. Men seemed to materilise around them.

Another shot from the building, and Gibbs actually saw the agent fall.  
_ "Rosenberg's hit-"_

"Fall back, fall back!" Fornells voice grated over the earpiece. The agents did, heads ducked against the next round of shots.

They didn't come.

Rosenburg, was unmoving, sprawled across the carpark.

_"That was a warning."_ The voice said softly._ "Next time, we'll shoot them all."_

He hung up.

Gibbs turned of the phone.

"Guess you're tagging along," he said to McGee.

"Great," muttered McGee, looking ill.

* * *

The lights were off inside the building as they entered.

The room glowed a gloomy blue, swaying lights from the water rippling across the ceiling like an aurora. Gibbs stepped out onto the pool edge, gazing into the silent shifting water.

Nothing there.

He had a sudden flash of the grey face of the five-year-old boy they pulled from the pool, and shook the ghost away.

"Gibbs…"

He glanced back, hand jerking on where his gun should have been.

Two SWAT men had come, as if from nowhere. One had his gun resting amiably on McGee's shoulder.  
"You're supposed to go up to the restaurant." Gibbs couldn't tell which one spoke.

"What about McGee?"

"He's insurance, in case anything should go amiss." A hand gripped McGee's bicep, pulling him back a step. McGee was still.

The other stepped forward.  
"Microphone and earpiece." They held out a hand. Gibbs removed them, feeling uneasiness rise.  
If something should go wrong, there would be no back-up.

They stepped back, and gestured towards the stairs.  
Gibbs didn't move. The hand around McGee's arm tightened.

"He won't wait long." There was a warning behind that voice. He heard the slight click of a gun being loaded, saw McGee flinch.

He looked, then left McGee to walk across the tiles towards the stairs.

He listened, waiting for the sound of a gun being fired.

Nothing.

He chanced a look back when he reached the stairs. The men were leading McGee back through foyer towards the front entrance.

_Good, or bad? _He wondered grimly as he climbed.

* * *

"On the floor, hands behind your head."

McGee hesitated, mind going towards his injured arm.

One grabbed him, shoved him to the floor. McGee flinched as his arm was twisted behind his head, tied roughly with cord.

They stood back, and took their place by the door.

They were in the small foyer between the front door and the pool area, out of sight from both Gibbs and the FBI. McGee watched as the two soldiers resettled their weapons, eyes turned forward.

They were at ease, in control. They weren't worried about the forces who were just outside.

_How were they going to get out?_ McGee wondered, face flat against the cold tile. The entire place was surrounded.

One moved to peer out through the glass of the front doors.

"Still watching from the vans," they said softly.

The other shifted their grip on the gun.

"Get away from the glass," they said abruptly. They were smaller in stature. Something about the way they moved convinced McGee they were female.

The man raised his hands in mock submission and stepped back. It was a movement that reminded him so much of Tony it gave him the courage to speak.

"Why didn't you take me?" he asked him. He looked down.

A gun poked him in the back.

"Shut up, please," the other said lazily.

The man gazed at him though the dark glass of his helmet, and something about his movements was troubled.

"We weren't told about you-"

"Hey." The woman cut him off.

They weren't told. The statement left him breathless, and not just because it made him feel less like he was in high school again.

Weren't told. Meaning there was someone giving information. It explained how they knew about the microphone and earpiece…

Someone on the inside…  
There was a sound that made them all jerk.

A splash in the next room.

* * *

The restaurant was up three flights of stairs. Gibbs was wincing as he headed upwards, feeling muscles twinge.

He reached the top, to find the front doors of the _Marina_ open.

He stepped inside.

Dark. Light flitted in through the windows that looked out onto the pool, outlining the elegant tables and the chairs perched on top. It shone across the darkened visor of the giant's helmet as he looked up.

"Hello, Agent Gibbs."

He had removed one of the chairs from the tabletop, sitting on it with an air of great relaxation.

"What? No wine?" Gibbs asked, half sarcastic. This man was still playing a game with him, and he still didn't like it a bit.

The man gave a snort. "Not with what I'm getting payed for this." He straightened. "You have the money?"

"Where's my person?" Gibbs shot back, stubborn. His eyes had searched the scene, seen no sign of anyone else.

_

* * *

  
No Air!_

* * *

The man didn't react, waiting.

Gibbs raised the hand with the package. The man stood, and he drew it back.

"Wait. First you tell me what this is all about."

_

* * *

_

Lungs were crushed, writhing, squealing in agony. She was kicking, trying to wriggle upwards with concrete attached to her feet.

* * *

The giant regarded him. The air seemed colder.

"You're not in a position to be calling any shots, agent Gibbs. We have your people."

"This isn't a shot." Gibbs stepped forward, looking him dead in the eye.

_

* * *

  
A curtain rippled above her head. _

_One inch._

_She was going to die with air just out of reach...  
_

* * *

"This entire thing is symbolic. Me handing over drugs that aren't worth the risk, and this…"

He lifted the package, raising his eyebrows in disbelief. "$40,000? You could have asked for a lot more then that."

The man shrugged, emotionless.

_

* * *

  
She curled over, dizzy with pain and suffocation. _

_She fought the primal urge to breathe, some deep part wanting to lengthen these last, desperate moments of life.  
_

* * *

"I just follow orders, Gibbs. You have to figure out the meaning behind this yourself."

Gibbs was confused. He could have sworn he heard regret in his voice.

The man held out a hand for the package. Gibbs handed it over.

"Where is-"

"Here." A roll of paper was thrust into his hand.

_

* * *

  
Her lungs were collapsing in on themselves. _

_It _hurt.

* * *

He glanced at it, only half caring. _

* * *

  
Her back hit the tiles at the bottom of the pool. Her head met with a dull thud and the last bit of air popped out. She watched the water ripple above her head.  
_

* * *

1987NORFOLKWILSON-441

* * *

Pretty_. She twitched._

_Her throat was cracking, a dyke buckling under the pressure._

_At least it's not the ocean, some part of her thought weakly.  
_They'll find your body.  
_Only someone dying would find that…comforting…_

_Her mouth opened, and water rushed inside.  
_

* * *

When he looked up, the giant was gone.

* * *

McGee watched as the man's hand rose to his helmet, as though listening.

_Closed circuit communications_, he guessed.

He gave a small nod to the woman. She leant down and started to wrap tape around McGee hands.

The man poked him with his gun.

"Close your eyes and start counting. You can open them at fifty."

McGee stared at him, then closed his eyes quickly as the man brought the submachine gun forward threateningly.

"1…2…3…"

He heard the sounds of their feet as they walked quickly into the pool area.

* * *

Gibbs found the emergency exit, where the giant seemed to have vanished. He had half a mind to follow them, but doubt kept him back.

One of his people was in the building somewhere, in danger.

Angrily, he looked at the paper again, turning it over in his hands.

Then stopped.

A postscript, written on the back.

_PS- Go for a swim_

He felt his heart stop.

He ran, face pressed against the glass as he stared down into the pool area.

There was a dark shape in the water.


	11. Chapter 10

Dedicated to Pro Amor, Pipinator89...and anyone else waiting. )

* * *

McGee counted to sixteen before he chanced a peek.

They were gone.

He sat up, bringing his hands over his head. The tape was shoddily done, not to keep him for more than a minute. His teeth grabbed a hold of the end, and he started to tear it off.

His head jerked up. A splash from the pool.

He ran.

* * *

Gibbs dived for the dark shape at the bottom of the pool.

It still shook, and his brain remembered.

_The Rigors; a body's last attempt for oxygen while drowning…_

It was female, with long hair waving like kelp. Black hair.

_Abby._

He swam faster, heart thudding in his ears.

His clothes absorbed the water, dragging him down, wonderfully faster. He reached her, saw closed eyes and open mouth.

He wrapped an arm around her waist, horribly aware she wasn't moving. His feet pushed powerfully off the pool floor for the surface. He barely rose, struggling. He looked, and saw concrete weights tied around her feet.

He strained, kicking as hard as he could.  
They lifted, barely.

For a second he was in air, gasping, before being yanked back under. He sunk then rose again, swimming underwater for the edge, dragging her. He could feel the concrete blocks dragging across the pool bottom as they reached shallower water. He supported her head with his arm, though it hung limp. Dragged under again and again, he floundered back to the surface each time.

He was panting by the time he reached the pool edge.

"Gibbs!"

McGee was on his knees, reaching.

Gibbs dropped underwater, slipping his shoulder under Abby's stomach and heaving upwards with all his might.

She rose out of the water just enough for McGee to grab her under the arms.

* * *

From above them, the man watched.

Beneath the helmet, his face was grim.

* * *

It took both of them to get her out of the pool. She slid onto the tiled surface, pooling in a wet heap. The concrete scraped along the tiles.

Gibbs clambered out while McGee rolled her on her side. Water cascaded from her mouth, escaping her lungs. McGee felt himself shaking violently, but couldn't stop.

_Oh no, oh no…_

Gibbs leant over, listening for breath.

"Dammit."

Gibbs turned her on her back. She was so still.

"McGee, mouth to mouth," he ordered, hands poised for CPR.

He had already bent, breathing life into Abby's lungs.

_She's so cold…_

Her chest rose then fell, a mockery of breathing.

Gibbs had his phone pressed between his shoulder and ear, grim faced. He shouted into it between compressions, his voice echoing against the polished walls until McGee felt dizzy.

"Fornell, we need an ambulance-…. get them in here, she's not breathing-"

_This can't be happening_, McGee thought distantly. He couldn't be giving Abby mouth-to-mouth in a swimming pool. It just…

His breath caught, and he faltered with the rhythm.

Gibbs had dropped the phone.

"She's not dead yet, McGee." His voice was quiet.

Silence. More breaths, more compressions. Her face was as pale, lips still cold, eyes shut. If Gibbs noticed the tears on McGee's cheeks, he said nothing. Just pushed harder.

McGee heard shouting, but it didn't seemed to sink in. He was light-headed, woozy. Someone pushed him aside, and he stumbled back.

Paramedic.

Two of them, leaning over, talking quickly.

Gibbs helped him up, and McGee felt him shaking too. More people, more paramedics (how could there be so many?) and suddenly they couldn't see her. Agents swarmed around them, but McGee barely noticed.  
He couldn't see, he wanted-

"Heartbeat, we got a heartbeat!"

McGee pushed forward, saw her face. The tiniest outtake of breath, the tiniest flutter. His legs nearly gave out in relief.

"Gibbs, she's alive."

McGee saw him smile. "That's my girl."

Then the crowd closed around her again as she was lifted onto a stretcher, mask clamped over her face and the wondrous fogging of it as she breathed.  
She passed them. and Gibbs caught a final glimpse.

He heard her breath guttering, like a candle flame. So weak.

Then she was gone, and he prayed.

* * *

_**7:01 pm**_

Gibbs was exhausted.

Wet, cold, aching, but mostly exhausted, so bone tired he would have just lain down on the floor and-

But he remembered Abby, and thought of Tony and Kate.

His head was resting in his hands, listening to the echoes of searching agents, both FBI and NCIS. He knew they wouldn't find anything.  
Hot steamy coffee smell burnt his nose, and he looked up at Agent Olsen.

"You look like you could do with a pick-me-up," he said sympathetically. Gibbs took the Styrofoam cup in an unsteady grip, and was pleased to see it was a strong black.

"We'll be hard pressed to find anything here," Fornell said, coming up behind Olsen. He sounded as tired as Gibbs felt. "Most of the damn tiles have been wiped clean…"

Most.

Gibbs looked over his coffee at the red tinted puddle at the edge of the pool. Two FBI CSI's were going carefully over the concrete blocks with infra-red lights.

Abby had been taken away in one of the ambulances, still unconscious. Three had come while they had been inside for the shot men, but they were dead by the time they arrived.

But if it weren't for them, Abby would have been too.

Gibbs had sent McGee with her, knowing if he didn't McGee probably would have gone anyway. Besides, he looked close to collapsing out himself.

"How'd they get out?" Gibbs asked, gulping down tar-black coffee.

Fornell glowered suddenly. "There's a dirty great hole in the basement leading into the sewers." He sat down heavily. "Looked like it had taken months..."

Agent Olsen returned, handing coffee to Fornell, who accepted it gratefully, but slightly suspiciously.  
"Borrowed the shops machine," Olsen said to the raised eyebrow. He stepped back, hovering, seeming to fight with himself. Gibbs waited, and he got it out.

"You haven't got any leads on the people involved yet, have you?" he asked, glancing over at the concrete blocks. His jaw tightened.

Gibbs looked at Fornell, who shrugged noncommittally.

Olsen muttered under his breath, then strode off. Gibbs frowned, then shook it off.

Fornell rubbed his head. "This game's is only half finished. My teams finally finished its report on The Cardinal, if you're ready to go back…"

"Yeah, I'm ready." Gibbs crushed the empty cup in his hand, looking over the scene.

Just outside the door, he passed the two shot agents, Rosenburg and Cornwell. Both were covered with jackets, given in grief by their friends.

_One more reason,_ Gibbs thought grimly.

Ducky gave him a sad half smile as they walked up, already measuring the liver temperature of Cornwell.

"Guess I spoke too soon, Jethro."

Gibbs gave a curt nod, not trusting himself to speak.

"Do you know what Abby's condition is?" Ducky asked hesitantly.

Gibbs shook his head. "McGee will ring me when he knows. I'll make sure it gets to you."

Ducky looked down at the bodies, and didn't answer. Gibbs followed Fornell to the car, stomach shrivelling.

The paramedics had said it was uncertain how much damage had been done. After all, no one could say how long she hadn't been breathing. Ten seconds? Ten minutes? Only time would tell.

Time. He looked at his watch, and felt another wave of exhaustion.

_12 hours left._


	12. Chapter 11

_**9:05pm**_

Gibbs closed his eyes for a moment, then looked over the file again.

One of the biggest he'd gotten, definitely. Twelve boxes, all involving crimes credited to the man- or woman- known as the Cardinal.

Drugs, trafficking, murder….the crimes were not confined to any area, jumping all over the place. Each time the only mention of "The Cardinal" was from witnesses, who could never give any more.

As he turned page after page, a picture began to emerge.

Precise. Ruthless. Manipulative. And careful in the extreme.  
A player of games, but only those he knew he could win. That made Gibbs feel worse, because it meant The Cardinal felt sure he was going to win this one.  
There was a list at the end, a woefully long list, of both men and women who were suspected.

None Gibbs recognised.

This wasn't everything, of course; since when did the FBI provide total information? But it was enough, and there wasn't enough time for it to help him.

He picked up the file on Mary Ryan, the agent who had disappeared five years before.  
A needle, the calling card. But there had been no bargaining for her. She'd washed up on the coast ten days later.

He gazed at her picture, and wondered how he'd missed her working in the NCIS office. He was there at the same time, certainly.  
She must have been pretty before the water bloated her face.

_That could have been Abby._

He dropped the picture.

Yes. Could have, but wasn't. She was alive.  
Or she had been, last time he'd seen her.  
His phone had been silent. McGee hadn't called.

_But that could still be Tony, or Kate._

Gibbs closed the file and pushed it away. He had a heavy sort of hopelessness in his stomach, a feeling he didn't like in the circumstances. He was tired, desperately needed a coffee and time was running out for the third time. His hands fisted themselves, and he took in a breath.

He needed that man, the giant. Despite what he had said, he knew what this was about, knew the name of the manipulator behind it.

Gibbs was alone in the conference room, waiting for the Virginia police commander. A radius had been found, the area in which Abby's distress signal could have come from.

100mile radius. 200mile diameter…

His phone rang.

_I could get to hate that noise,_ he thought irritably, checking the Caller ID.

He picked up quickly. "McGee?"

"Hey Gibbs-" it was noisy in the background, he had to strain to hear.

Gibbs heart was having a painful time in his chest.

"How is she?"

"Doctor's don't know yet, she's in surgery-"  
"Surgery?" his grip made the phone creak anxiously.  
"I don't know, no-one will tell me." His voice was miserable.

There was an irate mutter in the background.

"It's police business." McGee said distantly, to whatever nurse was scolding him

Gibbs closed his eyes, clutched his head. A headache was burning at his temples.

"Try and get some sleep, McGee. Call me if anything changes."  
"Sure, but one of the SWAT people said something-"

More squawking.

"Tell that damn woman to shut up!" Gibbs barked into the phone. His normally short fuse was now practically nonexistent.

"Go away, please, this will only take a minute. Yeah, she said something about how they were getting information from someone-"

Gibbs caught on. "An insider."

"Yeah-"

The phone beeped in his ear. McGee seemed to have lost his phone.

Gibbs set his phone down, thinking.

A mole.  
There was a thought.

Inside NCIS perhaps? Or deeper, inside FBI?

It would explain a lot.

He glanced down at Agent Ryan, who stared back with blank eyes.  
Someone had seen what she'd been doing, knew she was getting close.

They made her vanish.

That same someone had been watching his team, feeding the enemy information.  
And they were still doing it.

Gibbs stood, abandoning the conference room and the files, taking only the picture of Mary Ryan.

He was going hunting.

* * *

_**Time Unknown**_

It was cold, and Kate was shivering.

No longer gentle shakes, but bone rattling, deep quakes, forcing her to clench her teeth to stop them clicking together.

The light under the door had been fading for the past hour or so; now there was a faint slit of light, and darkness like a muffler.  
The room was freezing. Their breaths were ghosts in the air, glowing in the almost complete darkness. Kate felt her feet burn, numb fingers clenching as she curled up tighter, tighter.

It was unbelievable, unbearable; She'd never felt anything like this.

She could hear Tony shifting somewhere to the right; light glanced of the angles of his face, and she could see he was watching her. She'd thought he'd fallen asleep. He was flat against the dirt floor, arms out.

"You're shaking," he said softly, voice dying in the quiet.  
Try as she might, she couldn't catch his tone of voice, couldn't see his face properly.

"That's because it's freezing, Tony." She looked at him. He wasn't even shivering. "God, how can you stand it?"

She brought her knees closer, hands burrowed near the warm of her stomach as the cold bit at her arms.  
Tony sat up. Kate caught sight of his bare chest and looked away.

He motioned with an arm. "Come here."

_Was he serious_? Kate was suddenly painfully aware that she was only in a shirt and shorts, while he was in boxers. She hesitated.

He glowered suddenly.

"Kate, I'm freezing, you're freezing. Body heats the only thing we got here. Hurry up before something drops off."

Hesitant, she moved closer.

"Dirt's warmer than concrete." He said, laying back.

She grimaced and followed. "This is mud."  
Or at least, she hoped it was mud.

To her surprise, he was right. Instead of sucking out her body heat, the damp earth seemed to reflect some of it back. Tony burned an inch behind her back, his back to hers and she felt at least a little warmer than before, if more awkward.  
They sat in silence, then Tony muttered and she felt him turn over so he was now facing her.

His breathe on her back was slightly uncomfortable, so she spoke.

"Something you learned from the boy scouts, Tony?" she asked, settling with slight grimace. A twinge raced up her side. She'd have to watch that rib.

"Cubs. And no, this was a trick I learnt after being thrown out of my girlfriends' car and was stuck on the side of the road."

"Which girlfriend?"

"Er….Candy? Beats me, all I know is she had a-"

"I really would rather you not think that if I'm this close to you."

"Why?" she didn't have to turn around to know he was grinning.

"Use your imagination… actually, don't."

He laughed, and hot breath rushed across her neck and cheek.

Silence. She felt him shift behind her. "You try anything DiNozzo…"

"Too cold to try anything."

He was right about that, at least. She edged back slightly, closer to his heat. His breath touched the back of her neck.

"Kate…"

"…Yeah?"

"You really need a shower."

She laughed. "You don't smell so hot yourself."

"Hey, I know a lot of women who prefer the Tony-musk…"

"God, please, no. I don't want to know." She curled tighter, and felt as though she might be able to stand the night. The cold was still there, but it was bearable. Kate thought she heard Tony drift off, his breath deepening.

The good thing about the cold was it distracted her; with it at bay, she remembered why she was here, remembered Ducky and Abby. She closed her eyes. She told herself she didn't know, it wouldn't do any good to imagine. But still she did, and she felt sick with it.

She hoped they were okay. Hoped Abby's arm wasn't hurting her, hoped she'd seen Ducky again.

Tony's breathe moved across her neck.

Well, for better or worse, she had him at least.  
She moved back, closer to his heat.

His arm snaked under hers, pulling her closer.

She went stiff.

His breathing didn't change.

_He'd better be asleep, _she thought. _But what if he's not?_

She thought about it, but was suddenly too tired to care.  
She blinked, eyes closing on her, wondering what the time was…

* * *

Tony was awake.

He felt Kate relax slowly against him, burning against his arm. He was relieved; she had looked so tired.  
He felt her heart beat through the cloth of her shirt, felt her hair shift as he breathed, tickling his nose.  
Felt her move in her sleep so the space between them almost vanished.

But his eyes were fixed on the pale outline of the door.

Almost unconsciously, he pulled her closer.

Not long now.

_

* * *

**9:26pm **_

He found Fornell in the office, on the phone to his office.

Evidence was finally filtering through from what they'd taken from Kate's apartment, and from Fornell's black scowl it wasn't good.

Around him were agents, working to find the meaning of the code.

1987-NORFOLKWILSON-441

That was one thing Gibbs didn't get in this thing. The code was stupid, overly dramatic. It didn't seemed to fit. Why not just dump bodies in barrels, like had once happened to Ducky?

Whatever it was, it gave them time; for now Gibbs would just have to store that thought away, even if it did prickle.

Fornell hung up, looked at him in exasperation.

"You missed the meeting-"

Gibbs jerked his head towards the elevator.

* * *

Only one person saw them walk in, frowning slightly.

* * *

Gibbs pushed the button, and the lights turned ghostly as the elevator died.

"Virgina police commanders looking into that signal of yours." Fornell said, face suddenly hollow in the white light. "Shame Sciuto's out of action, there's no-one like her for electronics."

_Except McGee_, Gibbs thought, then put it aside. He needed McGee for other things.

Instead, he spoke

"We have a mole."

Fornell didn't even blink.  
"How'd you figure that?"

"One of the SWAT men slipped up to McGee," he stopped suddenly.

Fornell was passive, still, watching with carefully blank eyes.

"You knew." Gibb's voice was suddenly cold.

"We suspected there might have been. There is a difference."

Gibbs was stiff with fury, betrayal. "When were you planning on telling me this?"

"You know how we work Gibbs," Fornell's voice was steel, cold and unbending. "Everything is need to know, especially something like this. Besides…" he stopped, then shook his head slightly.

"They already have a suspect." He looked Gibbs in the eye.

Gibbs suddenly decided he wasn't going to like this.

"Special Agent McGee."

Gibbs laughed, and Fornell blinked. At least if he thought it was funny then he wasn't about to get punched.

"That's ridiculous."

Fornell shrugged. "Of course it is. Doesn't change the fact they'll bring him down. They figure even if they're wrong, they might catch the real guy unawares, get his guard down.".

Gibbs paused. "Who is 'they'?"

"That is that question." Fornell pressed the button, and the lights flickered on.

"Need to Know Only Gibbs. Always will be."

The elevator continued its path down toward the morgue. As the lift stopped, Fornell turned to Gibbs.

"You might want to call Agent McGee, though." The doors opened, and Fornell stepped out.

"He might want to know why he's about to be arrested."

* * *

_**10:45 pm**_

Gibbs headed back upstairs, alone this time. Ducky had shown him the results of an autopsy on the two dead agents.

_Nothing_, he thought bitterly.

Only that these bastards were nasty enough to use dum-dum bullets, the kind that split open skulls.

The bullets, or what was left of them, were sent up to forensics. Only now did he realise how much he needed Abby.

He glanced at his watch, grimaced.

_No time._

Nothing from the Autopsy. And nothing from the code, it seemed.

There was a tight feeling growing in Gibbs's chest, and he knew that now there was no chance to try and get there before that man did, no chance to catch them unawares.

Gibbs was in a dark mood when he reached the main floor, even more so when McGee was dragged passed in hand cuffs.

Gibbs stopped, felt his hands clench.

Fornell had warned him.

_Do nothing. _

As McGee came past, Fornell threw him the same look.

Gibbs was too busy looking at McGee.

* * *

_"Play along. They know what they're doing" _

_At the end of the phone, McGee didn't sound afraid. Just resigned._

_"I hope you know what you're doing, Boss." _

* * *

He was white, but silent as he was bundled towards a conference room. Gibbs could only give him a split second look, before looking over the agents who were standing up to get a better look, mouths wide with shock.

Gibbs looked carefully at each face.

And he saw it.

Quietly, he walked towards the conference room, feeling those eyes and hearing those whispers.

He came in just as Fornell was removing the cuff and apologizing for straining McGee's arm.

"It's alright," he muttered, wincing. Fornell and the FBI agent left, and Gibbs sat down across from McGee, who began to look alarmed.

"Are you actually going to interrogate me?"

"No. Unless you think I need to." Gibbs smiled.

"No, no sir."

McGee looked down, and Gibbs smile faded.

"How was she?" His voice was quiet.

McGee cleared his throat a little painfully.

"She wasn't… breathing too good, when they came to get me." His eyes were moist, and he quickly looked down.

"One of the doctors said there was hope, as long as she woke up soon. But, there's no guarantee…"

Gibbs looked away, up at the ceiling. The lights burned his eyes, and he could pretend there was no water in there.

_Abby… _

How was he going to manage, without her?

Fornell came back, and McGee flinched slightly as a laptop was dropped with a crack in front of him.

"Now," Fornell leant over, attaching a cable into the wall "Gibbs tells me he has a name for you to look at."

McGee sat up straighter, suddenly alert. "Who?"

Gibbs told him, and McGee stared in shock.

Fornell, however, smiled.

_

* * *

_

_**Time Unknown**_

In the darkness, Kate was suddenly aware of Tony's arm moving from her waist.

She opened her eyes, saw only black.

She felt him sit up.

"What?" she whispered.

"They're coming-"

Footsteps. She sat up, blood suddenly rushing past her ears.

Tony's hand found hers in the darkness, hauled her back; they were both against the wall. He was in front of her, shielding her.

She opened her mouth, to tell him to stop trying to be heroic-

The door slammed open, the light behind blinding.

They flinched, covering their eyes.

He gripped her hand tighter, and Kate felt her throat clench and burn. She couldn't see, could only hear them moving towards her, around her. She grabbed Tony by the arm, some part of her reasoning that if she held on they couldn't take either of them.

"How cute, a couple."

They were surrounded, and Kate could see them above her, bearing down.

Tony's voice was at her ear, and his voice burned.  
_"Don't let go, Kate." _

The fear in his voice… that scared her the most.

They came.

A huge hand clamped her collerbone tightly and tried to yank her back. Fire shot down her ribs into her stomach. She gasped, felt her grip loosen.  
Felt Tony grab her wrist, and as something hit him felt the vibrations.

_Too many, too many- _

She curled at the grabbing hands, focused only on holding on. She felt herself kick out, yelling more from rage than anything else, but she could hear the fear too. There were flashes of silhouettes, floating in light. Hands had her, tried to yank her down. She could hear Tony yelling-

She heard the blow before she felt it.

The world turned grey, her grip went slack. Tony had her by the wrist, and she went down. He clung on for a moment, she felt his fingers tightening and the bones creaking-

Gone.

Her face hit the dirt, and she somehow remained awake as the world swirled, yells and shouts roaring in darkness.  
Something on her neck as she tried to move…

_"Not you. Wait six hours."_

_"Kate-"_

Tony's voice was cut off, but she could hear him struggle.

Not her.

They wanted Tony.

"…Ton-" she tried to stand. The blood roared in her eyes, black spots exploded.

* * *

By the time she came to, she was alone in the dark, and Tony was gone.


	13. Chapter 12

_**11:21 pm**_

**File encrypted. NO ACCESS.**

McGee groaned quietly. Not again.

He was alone now in the interrogation room, and of that he was glad; he didn't think he could handle Gibbs and Fornell breathing over his shoulder as he picked his way through NCIS's files and private emails.

They were trying to find the location of the next 'drop site'; though that terminology made his mouth sour.

The wave of tension was building again, and it left him breathless; it was breaking point for the third time, and he didn't know how much more he could take.

McGee went earlier in the emails of the man Gibbs suspected: he was now about five months back, before he'd joined NCIS. He wished he had his own computer, or Abby's. The laptop didn't have the speed he needed for this-

He looked at the clock. _11:23pm._

No time. Again.

He checked the next file.

**File encrypted. NO ACCESS**

How many encrypted files?

Enough to be suspicious.

He set the decryption programs to work, then scanned over the bones of files in the email trashcan.

Something popped out at him again and again.

**Re: April Fool**

**Re: Re: April Fool2**

He pulled up the file.

A clown grinned from the screen, and he winced.

"Weird…-"

_Wait_.

He looked again, and the coding of the email at the bottom of the screen.

He highlighted a line of text, read it again.

_That_ was weird.

_

* * *

**11:34 pm **_

Nothing.

**1987-NorfolkWilson-441.**

Fornell looked morosely at the code flashing on his agents screens, and the feeling in his stomach way past sinking; sunk and vanished.  
They didn't have the meaning. No location.

No location, no chance.

He felt it in the air, the tension; there were just too many variables. They had been lucky on the first two- it had run out.

Gibbs was pacing in the bullpen, Dr Mallard sitting nearby with his injured leg stuck out stiffly. Fornell heard snatches of the muttered conversation, but couldn't catch the words. The investigation had passed over to the FBI; Gibbs had no power over events now, acting only as the front man.

Fornell watched as Gibbs leant over and rested his face in his hands, Dr Mallard speaking to him softly.

They both flinched as Gibbs's phone rang.

There was a slight pause as heads all through the squad room swivelled to look. Fornell snapped at them and they looked quickly back, but everyone was waiting.  
Especially one.

Fornell watched as he grabbed for it, and was stunned to see Gibbs hands were shaking. But then, Fornell new what most people didn't seem to understand- Gibbs wasn't as immortal as he seemed, especially when it came to his people.

Gibbs looked at the caller ID, but he didn't pick up.

Instead he stood, walked towards the conference room.

_

* * *

**11:36 pm **_

"Boss, it's an Easter egg."

Gibbs stared at him, and McGee stuttered an amendment.

"I mean, it's got a hidden file. Look-" He pulled up the clown picture, then hovered the curser over the face. It morphed to a hand over a single pixel in the eye.

McGee clicked, and a file popped up.

There, a list of addresses. One was his.

The others belonged to his team.

Gibbs saw it, and knew he had been right. Fornell did too, and gave one command into his radio.

McGee brought up more, files on all of them, Ducky, Kate, everyone. And other things; photographs, files from their computers—

Gibbs felt rage start to spark in his blood, and his teeth clench.

"They're getting him now." Fornell muttered, and he smiled with a little too much tooth.

"Looks like we're finally getting somewhere—"

The computer beeped and McGee looked at it, puzzled.

"What-"

A buzz hissed from the radio, and a reply echoed down the line.

Fornell listened, and his look snapped to thunderous.  
Gibbs heard, and felt a sigh ripple through him.

Olsen, it seemed, had seen them coming.

It couldn't be easy, even now.

McGee's eyes had bulged.

"Gibbs, look—"

There, on the screen.

**West Norfolk Jail, section 441. Midnight.**

Gibbs saw it, and all he thought was: _What are the chances of that?  
_The reply was_: None at all._

Fornell snapped his phone shut, took in the message grimly.

"You get your agent" Fornell's eyes were glowing.

"I'll get Olsen."

Gibbs and McGee vanished down the hallway in an instant.

_

* * *

**11:42 pm **_

No time.

The giant was furious, though he was careful not to show it. He had been grossly misinformed about the situation, it seemed; and improvisation had never been one of his strong points.

He had eighteen minutes. And then…

A scuffle, and a thunk. One of his men snarled, and he turned to see him raise his weapon to bring it down on the prone agent on the floor.

"Don't."

The man froze, and the Giant turned away. On the floor, DiNozzo felt a chill. He had thought Gibbs was the only one who could freeze someone with a word. He rolled on his back, watching that head slowly swivel.

Tony wondered why he had been left conscious, when Abby and Ducky had not. He think he wound have preferred to be unconscious. Instead he was bound, gagged, rubbing his skin raw as he tried to get free.

Death was coming, he knew, but he preferred not to think about till the last possible moment.

The giant closed his eyes, breathed in slowly.

He needed to think…

He opened his eyes, and saw it.

DiNozzo, on the floor, strained against the bonds on his hands, but stopped.

The giant had turned, watching him.

He leant down, hauled Tony into a sitting position. Tony pulled his head back, away from the helmeted face an inch from his.

"Looks like I won't have to shoot you after all, Agent DiNozzo." Tony was dumfounded. His voice was unmasked, and he was filled with dread.

If he didn't need to hide his voice anymore…

The giant dangled something beside Tony's head, and he could feel the smile under the mask. At first Tony thought snake, until he saw the end.

His mind went blank.

_No. Not that._

* * *

_  
** 12:00. Midnight.**_

They came to the old Norfolk Jail; part of it had been turned into a historical museum, only last year. That's where they were headed; section 441, storage.

Gibbs drove, and McGee hung on grimly.

Behind them, dark cars raced through the night.

There was no traffic at this hour, which was the only reason they got there in time. Gibbs jumped out of the car before it stopped moving, gun out and running.

McGee grabbed the hand brake, slid out.

Cars shrieked to a stop either side, agents spilling out.

He fumbled for his gun in its holster, gave up and ran to follow.

The storage door was open wide, beckoning them with an orange light.

McGee went in; saw where all heads were pointed.

Up.

He looked, and he tasted bile.

* * *

Gibbs had froze, mouth open.

Tony was above them, ten feet or so, a rope around his neck, writhing like a fish on the hook. Gibbs felt his skin seem to harden, his skin prickling.

He saw Tony's eyes roll, saw them focus on them.

Him.

He saw the plea in his eyes, and looked away, finding his voice. Yelling for ladders, ropes, anything.

Meanwhile Tony choked, hanging from his noose.

Gibbs followed, tossing boxes aside and desperately looking.

Nothing!

But how the hell had they got him up there?

Above them he could hear Tony struggling to breathe; his hands clutched the rope as he tried to support his weight, but he was turning dark, his feet arched and kicking.

His grip was failing, and as his hands slipped the rope was tightening.

"Tony!" his voice carried and echoed, and Tony seemed to slacken.

His lips parted, purpling and swollen with choked blood.

_Boss…_

"Tony, we're getting you down—" His voice cracked, and he didn't know if Tony could even hear.

He looked around, desperate. The agents were looking, he could hear the search widening.

They were going to be too late. Tony was going to die long before they found a way to get him down.

McGee was standing next to him, and he hadn't even noticed. He saw the same realisation. "Boss, there's nothing-"

"I know."

Tony was twitching, struggles dying away.

"Boss, I have a really bad idea—"

"McGee…"

Gibbs grabbed him by the collar, then saw.

McGee was holding his gun.

This was insane, for sure, but it was all he had. He grabbed the gun from McGee, taking his own out and shouting at the same time.

"Everyone, get underneath him, now!"

They stopped, saw what he was doing, rushed forward. Gibbs was backing up, looking at the rope, still holding McGee's gun. Tony had stopped kicking, hanging loosely. Men stood beneath him, gazing up and at the ready.

Gibbs emptied his clip, then McGee's

The first time Tony jerked; the second last bullet, Gibbs hit the top of the rope.

Tony fell in silence.

Gibbs watched the fall, but his eyes shut of their own accord so he did not see the impact, but felt and heard it within every fibre.

Then there was quiet.

* * *

"_Hello?"_

"_Abort the plan."_

"…_What?"_

"_Abort. Something's gone wrong."_

"…_.What about the woman?"_

"…_You know what he wants."_

_-click- _

__

_

* * *

_


	14. Chapter 13

_**12:54 am**_

Ducky stretched slowly, feeling his bones pop. Beside him McGee dozed, and across the hall Gibbs was sitting straight back, eyes focused on the door.  
Waiting.

Tony had been classified as Critical; the fall had snapped his leg, but it was those three minutes of failing oxygen that had left him unconscious, and was why Gibbs was sitting so rigidly.

Ducky looked at Gibbs carefully. His eyes were red-rimmed, tired, and there was a dullness there he wasn't used to seeing. He was worried for Tony, who Ducky had seen in a blur as he was pushed into emergency, and for Abby. But most of all, he was worried for Caitlin. He had made Ducky go over and over what he had seen in his three hours of consciousness, in that room.

But that was only three hours.

Gibbs needed information, and Abby was unable to help them. That left Tony-

The doors opened.

Ducky straightened, and Gibbs stood. McGee jerked out of sleep, blinking.  
The doctor glanced over them, focussed on Gibbs.

"Are you his father?"

"No. I'm his boss."

"Oh. Where are his family?"

"They're coming." That was a lie, Ducky knew. There had been no response when McGee had rung the contact number, and Ducky got the feeling there wouldn't be.

"Is he alright?" Gibbs' voice was cold with impatience.

"Tony has some serious injuries, but the suffocation he… received, that was what was most likely to cause any damage. Fortunately, the cat-scan didn't show any cerebral injury, and there seems to be no lasting damage."

Gibbs seemed for a second to sag, but it was only for a second.

"Is he awake?" McGee asked.

The doctor shook his head. "He probably won't be for a while, the painkillers we put him on are quite strong. You're welcome to stay until he does though." He smiled at Gibbs.

"He should make a full recovery though—"

Those were all Gibbs had time to hear. He turned, walking away down the hall. The doctor blinked, watched him leave. Then he turned to Ducky,

"Dr Mallard, Tony's injuries are connected to Abigail Sciuto's, aren't they?" he asked quietly.

Dr Mallard nodded, then started after Gibbs. He was further down the hall, muttering into his phone. He hung up by the time Ducky reached him.

"Fornell got Olsen."

* * *

_**Time Unknown**_

There's nothing in the world like knowing you are going to die.

Kate had felt it once or twice before, but nothing…

Nothing like this.

She paced, feeling the weight of the empty space of the room, the awful silence of hearing only her own breath. She took a breath, closed her eyes for a second.

_How long?_

How long till they took her too, killed her like the rest?

She was shaking with adrenaline; She flinched, confusing the thudding of her heart was footsteps. Frozen, she listened, but when it just went on and on she sank down, shuddering.

_Not long enough._

Her hand ached, and she looked at it. Tony had gripped her so hard she'd bruised, dark purple scratches where he'd tried to cling on. She clenched her hand into a fist, teeth bared against the sparks or pain. Better she feel angry than let the terror sink in.

She knew, perhaps, that he might be dead. Tony, Abby, Ducky.  
But knowing is a long way from believing.

And Gibbs...  
Tony had been so sure that Gibbs would save them. But he hadn't come.  
He hadn't come, and now it was only her. They were gone.

She covered her face, felt the blood burning under her skin. She refused to weep, refused to give in. Not now, she couldn't now.  
Instead her eyes burned, spreading till she was burning with hate and cold and pain and all the effort not to give in.

Footsteps.

She jolted in shock, felt her muscles slacken.  
_But it's too early!_ part of her protested through the numb shock.

She didn't even have time to stand up. The door slammed, and light speared right through to the back of her head. Kate covered her eyes, tried to stand up.

She was shaking, but it really didn't matter; now, at the end, she was ready to go out fighting.

_This is it_. There was no bravado, no bravery in the thought. Just emptiness.  
She barely got the chance.

A hand had her by the scruff of the neck, and she whirled with a kick. The dark form grabbed her foot and dumped her on her back, knocking the wind out of her.

"Hold her."  
Someone did.

Kate fought, but hands were around her neck, a foot crunching on her wrist. She yelled, and in rage bit a finger that got too close, hate locking her jaw tight even as a slap bought tears to her eyes.

Too many of them, too many brutal hands. Someone grabbed her feet, and the hand was wrenched from her mouth as she forced onto her stomach. She kicked, the thought of being incapacitated scaring her more than the death that was coming. A hand snatched for her. With a snarl, she grabbed and broke his wrist.

There was a shriek of pain, and she was on her face in the dirt as someone knelt on her back. Her ribs creaked, and she cried out.

A gun stroked the back of her neck.

Her skin prickled as hairs stood on end. She felt the shadows stand back.

"I will end this now, I swear."

It was Him, she knew, but his voice wasn't masked anymore. It shocked her, and she was suddenly cold. If he didn't need to shield his voice, there was obviously no thought of her ever being able to testify against him.

_No-_

She twitched, and the gun pressed harder. She swelled with hate, a vile taste rising. But she couldn't move, only gasp for breath and boil with fury, just like before when they had caught her in her bedroom.

Her hands were tied, duct tape went across her eyes and mouth;  
So when the blow came, she never saw it coming.

* * *

_**Time Unknown**_

Tony woke up, and immediately wished he hadn't.

If he ever had the misfortune to get hit by a truck, he knew this was what it would feel like. His skin buzzed; bones creaked.

_Ow_, he thought weakly.

There was a rasp of noise somewhere to his left, and he wondered at it vaguely.  
He opened his eyes.

Or at least, that's what he would have preferred happened. Instead his eyelids fluttered slightly, then curled back in defeat. He caught a glimpse though, through that split second slit.  
White. Unfeeling white that stank of chemicals.

_Hospital._

He tried to open his eyes a second time, and succeeded.

Stone ceiling lined with cracks, whitewashed walls that burnt his eyes. The light was the drained, watery glow of late night halogen. The green glow of a digital clock floated in the darkness of the empty halls outside.

**2:56 am**

He looked at it, and wondered vaguely what day.

The colours were muted, vague; he had a strange sort of loose, dull feeling. He thought about it for a moment, and gradually realised he felt a sort of universal numbness.

He recognised the feeling. Heavy duty painkillers.

_Oh boy._

The sheets on his bed were straightjacket tight; he growled under his breath as he wriggled into a sitting position. He was still covered in a layer of dirt, and blood all over.  
Not just his either, he remembered. Some was Kate, some Abby, some dirtbag.

He looked down, bruises he hadn't noticed getting bleaching in the light. Tony had been beaten before; it was practically guaranteed if you'd been a cop in Baltimore. Not so far as this, though. He felt tenderised, like meat, soft and aching.  
His leg twinged, and he reached down without thinking. It was covered with bandages, metal rods down each side.  
It was numb, so he couldn't tell if it was broken or sprained or—

More noise.

He glanced, and saw McGee sprawled in a chair to his left. Head tipped back with a slightly open mouth, his chest rose and fell gently with an accompaniment that would have put a drill to shame. Tony looked at him, noticing the bandage and the eye patch with a frown.

"McGee." Tony was too far away to poke him. His head swivelled, falling on the metal stand holding his IV bag.

McGee yelped as something large and metal jabbed him between the eyes.

"Probie, you scream like Kate."

McGee blinked, dazed, then saw Tony grinning at him.

"Tony—"

"Not that I'm saying you scream like a women, more like a demented harpy…" Tony stopped suddenly. "What's with the eye patch?"

McGee blinked, as if just noticing. "Oh…" He seemed suddenly lost. Tony noticed his haggered gaze, the hollow look he had in his eyes.

_Oh no._

He sat up, voice sharp. "Ducky, Abby, where are they?"

McGee looked down. "Ducky's alright. He's back at NCIS with Gibbs. They were here before…"  
He stopped.

"…and Abby?"

McGee looked up. His eyes were red rimmed, empty. "She's on life support, Tony."

It was like a punch to the stomach, leaving him weak and breathless.

_Abby…_

"What happened?" he whispered.

"They tied concrete blocks around her ankles and dumped her in a pool." There was something harsh in his voice when he said it. McGee looked away and focused on the clock.

Tony's face didn't twitch, but something inside snapped. He was cold, numb.  
He would kill them. He'd break their necks…

McGee was still talking. "The Doctors…they aren't sure if she'll even wake up…" His voice's cracked, and he stopped.

Tony sat up straighter. "Where is she?"

* * *

McGee supported Tony as they made their way down the dark halls, passing pools of light washing out from the rooms either side, where white faces lay on even whiter beds. A toneless hum followed them towards the intensive care unit.

"Are you sure you're up to this?" McGee said anxiously as Tony's face creased with every limp.

"I'll live," he grunted. He didn't say anything about the sharp pain, or that he could feel that he was bleeding onto the bandage.  
He had to see her.

They paused, waiting as a nurse walked past the corridor in front. They slipped into the ICU ward, and Tony felt the air grow heavy.

"Have I mentioned how much I hate hospitals?" Tony muttered.

"I know the feeling." McGee said emphatically.

As they reached the room, McGee slowed. Tony let him move forward first, hand against the wall as he steadied himself. The world was twitching, and he wished he'd gotten McGee to steal a wheelchair.

McGee peeked around, as if afraid she had disappeared since his last visit. Then he took Tony in.

The light was darker than the other rooms; the walls faded into darkness at the corners. There was a bottomless silence to the room, like at the dark floor of the ocean.  
In the centre, Abby seemed to float in a sea of tubes and machines.

Green mountains rose and toppled with her heartbeat; a dozen glowing worms writhed in silent motion. Abby was motionless, aside from the barely perceptible rise and fall of her chest. Tony couldn't even see her face properly over the machines suctioned to her face.

He stepped forward, then stopped. There was such an absence in the room. A feeling of nothingness, emptiness.

_That's not Abby_, some part of his kept repeating numbly.

In front of him was a ghost, bloodless and wearing wires like jewellery, and it wore her face.

McGee pulled up a chair next to the bed for him, and Tony sank into it as McGee quietly got another from outside.  
They both sat, silently watching the only sign she lived, a green halogen line hopping up and down.

Tony reached forward, touched the side of her face. Her hair was still damp, and he snatched his hand away.  
She didn't move.

In the movies, at times like this they would have talked quietly to her, and she would wake in time for her to hear the most important part.  
But then, movies didn't know jack about comas. In the movies it would be alright, as long as she woke up. Brain damage rarely existed in the movies.

McGee spoke. "What did he look like?"

Tony started slightly. "What?"

"The man, the man who did this. What did he look like?" There was an intensity, a harshness to his voice.

Tony looked at his hands, noticing for the first time his knuckles were scabbed. "We never got a look at his face. Always covered, voice masked."

He thought back to that room, remembered what had happened in every aching gash, every deepening bruise. It was already breaking apart in his head, fragmenting like a dream.  
The fact he was out really hit him then.

But Kate…

"I'm going to kill him."  
Tony heard the words, but the tone scared him more. He looked at McGee, at his straight back, his cold eyes.

"Get in line," Tony said, and he was only half joking.  
McGee didn't smile though.

The words faded, and they watched.

Tony looked, saw Abby's hands were bound around her fingers, even on her splinted arm. His throat constricted, his eyes were burning.

_Oh, this is so messed up._

Tony looked down, noticing the red stain slowly inching a path in the white of his bandage; he sighed inwardly.  
He wouldn't be here for long.

He looked at the clock, thought of Kate alone in that dark room.

He wished he were there; he was scared for her, alone in that room with those men. Kate was like iron, he knew, but he had seen her slumped and dizzy with pain, seen how she had shaken with cold.  
She had been weakening; no-one can hold out forever.

His mind gave him some images of what they might be doing, and he felt swollen with hate.

Even if Gibbs couldn't find him, Tony would. And he would make him pay for every scratch, every bruise, every minute he had held them down there—

That was the last thing that Tony thought, for he had underestimated how much blood he had lost. He slid slowly from the chair and settled on the floor, bandage red as sin.

* * *

Across town, the giant got ready.

Last time.


	15. Chapter 14

_**3:02 am**_

Gibbs watched Olsen through the glass, and Fornell had the image of a hawk, staring at the rodent its talons were about to crush.

Gibbs felt a coldness inside, reaching through every vein like liquid iron. The rage he felt at seeing Tony unconscious and bent on the packing room floor left him with no room for mercy. He had in his hand pictures, taken from crime scenes and the victims—his people. Of Tony's snapped leg, Abby's broken arm. They burned under his fingers.

He remembered his Abby, seeing her in that hospital room, and his fists clenched.

Olsen would _break_.

_

* * *

**3:06 am**_

Olsen was shaking.

_Oh God, Oh God._

Gibbs would kill him, he'd seen it in his face. Seen that look in his eyes. It was because of him that his people were in danger, but that wasn't only it; Gibbs was a Marine. Marines hated traitors, and he was the worst kind.

He'd been so close to getting out, too.  
But it had all gone wrong.

He clenched his hands into fists. _McGee._

He hadn't seen McGee join the team. Hadn't been watching, distancing himself so he couldn't be connected when all went down. He only found out three days before it happened about McGee joining the team, and the idiot he was he thought it wouldn't matter.

But he had. The plan had failed three times over, from one man.  
And Gibbs…

The door opened, and Olsen couldn't bring himself to turn his head.  
Silence.  
It shut quietly.

Gibbs walked around, took his place in front of Olsen, looked at him for a moment. Photos.

Gibbs laid them out carefully. Olsen recoiled. It was them, faces and arms and gaping lacerations.  
"I want you to look at these for a moment."

Olsen didn't want to, but the only alternative was to look at Gibbs, which was no alternative at all. He focused on the photos. A hand was splayed flat, knuckles scrapped and nails broken, blood still beneath.  
Abby's hand. She teased him about being uptight, once.

He shook himself slightly. _Shut up, shut up…  
_No point of guilt now. It was way too late for that. He could only stay silent, and hope that after all this he got a light sentence. Prison would be better than anything that _He_ could do.  
For this must mean everything, for Him to jeopardise his mole in the federal services. Failure was unthinkable.

"I'm not saying anything."  
Gibbs smiled. "You say that now."

He got up, went over to look in the darkened window. Olsen didn't move. Neither did Gibbs, not for a while. Then he walked around, came from behind so his hands rested on Olsen's shoulders. Olsen went stiff as a whisper rushed past his ears.

"Do you have any idea of what I can do to you?"  
Olsen's voice was tight. "You can't touch me."

Unconsciously, his eyes flicked to the two way window.

"Looking for Fornell?" Gibbs reached over, flicked a switch.

Olsen stared. It was empty.

"Just you and me, Agent Olsen." He sat back down, stared at him. His face was grey, a haggard look in his eyes.

When he spoke, his voice was quiet. "Olsen, I don't care."  
Olsen blinked.

"I don't care why he did it. I don't care why you helped him. All I want from you is where she is."

Gibbs kept his face still as the man across from him considered. _Please.  
__Please make this easy, let me find her before he hurts her._

Olsen's eyes trailed down. "I can't."

Gibbs stood up, and there was darkness in him."Then what. Give me something, or I swear I will break you—"

"What about his emails? Did you get that?" Olsen's voice was panicked now. He was clutching at straws, and they both knew it. "It told you where they were, didn't it?"

"It showed me where they were going to die!"

Gibbs fist hit the table like a clap of thunder, and Olsen was on his feet in an instant. A gun appeared, and behind it there were two eyes that glowed blue with hate.

"No, no—"

He ran, hammered on the door, but there was nothing. The sound of movement and he whirled back.

Gibbs. The light made his face a skull, his eyes black hollows.  
"You think they screamed like that, Olsen?" He moved forward, and Olsen scrabbled back, back against the wall. "Think she clawed to get out?"

There was murder in his eyes.  
Gun.

Olsen stopped, chest rising and falling rapidly.

"One of my people is breathing on a machine." Gibbs's voice was quiet. "And another one is out there somewhere, and she's got two hours until some bastard tries to kill her."

Olsen was on the ground, back against the door. Gibbs towered over him, blocking the light. His voice was quiet.  
"The only way you're ever going to stand up…is if you tell me where she is."

There was a cold truth in the statement, and he knew.

Olsen shuddered, eyes rolling at the gun. Gibbs he could see was now beyond caring what anyone could throw at him, what a law court would bring later. With no one to watch, he could easily claim that Olsen had attacked him.

Death in custody. No one would look too closely; they would choose not to.

Torn, now, between two deaths. The one at the hands of Gibbs, the other by…him.  
Death now, or death later.

"I'll tell you," he whispered.

_

* * *

**3:41 am**_

A warehouse, set right within the boundaries of Abby's radio call, out of range of everything else. Near the docks, away from hearing.

The FBI sent everything, helicopters and scream cars that shot along the night streets. Fornell and Gibbs were in the front car as it howled forward, and as Fornell turned he saw a flash of smile that was all tooth.

This would be over. One way or another.

* * *

**Time Unknown**

There are whispers of things in Gibbs's head.

_Clouds of brown and grey, colour smeared together; forms that used to be factories, used to be buildings that are blown away in the memory._

There is a rumbling, and his head twitches

_Dark shadows as they race towards the building that holds her, an abandoned manufacturing warehouse grey in the approaching twilight. __He's running, they are running. Guns out, shouting. _

_He touches the door. He remembers that with feeling, a central knowledge.  
__Then…_

_A cosmic thump, a wave of air that throws him back to smack into blackness. And fire, cascading away and into the darkness._

_

* * *

**6:14 am**_

_"Gibbs."_

The sound filtered in, crackling and popping. Or was that something else? There's a prickling on his cheeks, pain and heat stretched his skin tight like a drum.

He felt his eyelids shivering.

"_Gibbs."_

Urgent, anxious.

He blinked, and Fornell came into focus for a second, then blew away. His voice echoed through Gibbs aching head.

_"Jethro, you alright?"_

He felt his hand move. Gibbs touched his face, and it felt sticky. Fornell was still there when he opened his eyes, and the sky behind him was a malevolent, rolling red.

He sat slowly, and Fornell shoved a water bottle into his hand, but he didn't drink it. People shouting, moving. Fire engines, sirens whistling. It seemed oddly muted, like there was wool in his ears.

And behind him…

Fire boiled into the night, glowing and pulsing. His ears were humming; he rubbed them, staring.

_Oh no._

He stood up too quickly, ears buzzing but he didn't care, he couldn't believe. He stared, aching, at the glowing streamers arch from the fire hoses against the angry, howling inferno.

_Kate…_

"No—"

He tried to move, by Fornell grabbed him tight by the arm."Gibbs, we're handling this."

"What happened?" His voice cracked, and he couldn't believe, remember.

"Explosion. Got three agents down, and the thing's 1000° Farenheit—"

"Kate, what about Kate." The tone of his voice was almost to desperation.

Fornell just shook his head

_

* * *

**  
9:02am**_

"Building blew up as we were getting ready to move in." Fornell was saying, but Gibbs barely heard.

Hours later, and the fire had been put out. The media had at last caught on, was camped behind a barrier a hundred feet away, and all in between people dug through rubble, searching.

At the centre Gibbs sat stone faced, eyes down at the body bag being loaded into the coroner's van.  
Bones. Charred bones that were almost dust.

_It couldn't be. Not Kate. Not like that..._

"Body was pretty charred, so they're not even sure it's her-"  
"Who else is it supposed to be?" Gibbs heard himself say distantly.

Fornell said nothing, just sat quietly and watched helpless as Gibbs crumbled.

Gibbs sat still, just breathing. His mind had shut down, caught in an unsolvable equation.  
Kate. Dead.

But she had been relying on him, he was supposed to save her.  
What was he supposed to do now?

His head sunk into his hands, and he could feel he was trembling. Now he knew why there had been no fourth message with Tony. They had never intended to give him Kate alive.  
His eyes shut.

He should have looked harder. Should have tried harder, called Fornell as soon as he had walked into her apartment. Then maybe Abby wouldn't be dying, Tony wouldn't be hurt. Kate wouldn't be…  
No. He knew where this would lead.

He took a breath, two.

What now?

He had to keep going. Get it done, get the cowardly piece of shit that had done this. Then, he could grieve. Only then.  
He got out his phone, dialled.

"Hey, Boss?"

"McGee…"

"DiNozzo woke up about an hour ago, looks like he'll be—"

"McGee."

He stopped, suddenly aware of the tone of Gibbs's voice. "…What is it?"  
Gibbs struggled with the words. "It's Kate."

Silence.

"…you found her?" McGee suspected, but couldn't bring himself to ask, to make it real.

"We're not sure. We found the building, but it blew up—"

Static blew in the phone, as though McGee had coughed.

"…They found a body in the cellar."

Silence.

"But…they don't know if it's her, right?"

"No."

"So, she could still be alive." The hope in McGee's voice cut deeper then rage or grief.

Gibbs opened his mouth, but no words filled it. He blinked, tried again.

"I need you to get to NCIS. Tell me the findings on the autopsy from Ducky." He hung up. His hands cradled his head, thumbs pressed to his temples.

_

* * *

**11:56 am**_

"This was all we were able to get from the warehouse."

Sixteen charred outfits, laid out even though they had hardened to cracking. Gibbs looked them over, and Fornell rubbed his temples tiredly.

"No chance of pulling DNA off them." It wasn't a question.

"No." Fornell looked over, and saw the blank expression on his old friend's face. "We've had a team looking through surveillance tapes from around their apartments, and the pool and construction site. Apparently they might have something, but they don't know."

Gibbs seemed to shake himself slightly, then spoke in Fornell's general direction. "Tell me if they do."

"Of course."

_

* * *

**12:30 pm**_

Ducky looked old, standing with his hands splayed on the side of the autopsy table and the light harsh on his skin. Across from him sat Gibbs, head lowered. Between them the body, which by now they knew was definitely female.

Ducky's hand moved, pointed to an area of remaining skull. "There's a semi circle cut, here, right on the edge of the crack. It may be a bullet hole."

"May?" With effort, Gibbs looked up,  
"I haven't looked for it yet." Ducky's voice was heavy. "I was taking scrapings for DNA."

Gibbs nodded stiffly, keeping his head up. He already knew that there was little of the skull left. No teeth for dental records.

Ducky's eyes were moist. "Jethro…"  
"How long until we know?"  
"About 8 hours. The lab is struggling without…"

Gibbs turned, heading for the door.  
Ducky looked down at the charred bones spread out on the table before him, blinked hard against the burning of his eyes.

"I'm so sorry, Caitlin."


	16. Chapter 15

**In my world, there are cereal fields west of Virginia. Don't break my fantasy if I'm wrong. **

_**

* * *

**_

_**12:34 pm**_

As the lift opened to the ICU unit at Bethesda hospital, McGee had to shake his head slightly to wake himself up.  
Ducky had sent him to get Abby and Tony's clothing to deliver to forensics, and McGee knew it was so he wouldn't see the body.

The Body.

He was relieved, because it was better than the other two alternatives; after Gibbs's call he had been waiting for the coroner's van to arrive, alone in the bullpen staring at three empty desks. In between he had been hanging up on the media who managed to get his phone number, and contacting Kate's parents.

That had been hard, to listen to that silence as he told her father, and that noise he made when McGee told him he would not be needed to identify the body, because it wasn't possible.  
But he knew it would be harder, to see it for himself.

Abby's room was down to the left; as he passed, he couldn't help glancing in; but as soon as he did he jerked his head away, throat suddenly tight.

Her parents had arrived from Louisiana.

It had been a split second shot, but it burned inside. Her mother silent, eyes like mirrors. Her father kneeling beside Abby, head buried next to hers and shaking quietly.

McGee stumbled away, but had to sit down because his knees seemed to have lost the ability to bear weight. He put his head in his hands, shaking, trying to force the picture out.

He hadn't meant to see that, he hadn't meant to intrude.

"Excuse me."  
A hand on his shoulder. He looked up into eyes that were so familiar it hurt.

"Are you Timothy?" Abby's mother leant down, so they were eye to eye. Her voice was odd, lacking the proper inflections.

"Oh, ah, yes." He said, then remembered and nodded.

Her lips curled slightly. "Don't worry, I can understand."

Silence. Awkward, but McGee couldn't look away from those eyes that looked the same as…

"She told us a lot about you."

"Oh." Told. Something about the past tense made him cringe, made her chin twitch. Her eyes were wet again, and he heard her swallow, then ask the thing that had torn her away from her daughter.

"Who did this to her?"

McGee couldn't look away, but with all his heart he wished he could because he didn't want to see. "We don't know."

Cheeks wet, those eyes crinkled. "Why? Why would someone do this to her?"

McGee looked down, because her voice cracked at the exact same moment as he had.

He couldn't answer.

* * *

**Time Unknown **

Kate woke up blindingly, horribly sick.

The walls were pressing in, vibrating, boiling; she was blind, gagged, squeezed so tightly into a ball she had the sudden wild thought she might explode apart like a kernel of corn.  
She kicked out, realising a split second later she was in the trunk of a car. Sweating, she twisted her head, then found it jammed against fabric. Bile rose in her throat and she moaned, head splitting with dizziness.

The wheels juddered over a bump. She swallowed hard, sweat prickling on her forehead.

_Oh god, get me out…_

She writhed, the metal squeaking as her feet slammed against it. Her hands wrenched free of the bindings. She pulled tape from her eyes and mouth, gasping for air. It was like poison, boiling in her lungs. She trashed, and metal groaned.

The car jerked to a stop, and she gulped as her stomach rose.

Okay, now she was _really_ going to be sick.

The engine rattled into silence. She closed her eyes, panting, feeling the twist of her stomach and the bile and saliva rising.  
Footsteps, then the sound of keys.

Sunlight, blinding, shadow. She took a breath, started to cough. Retch.

"Jesus Christ…" The shadow reached, slinging her out of the trunk one armed. She staggered, then fell to her knees and threw up.

Her eyes watered as she retched, and she wished very sincerely she'd never woken up from unconsciousness.  
His feet left her line of vision, crunching across gravel to the car.

There was a moment of silence, of gasping breath between gags when she realised, quite suddenly, that it was day. Kate shuddered, head aching as she blinked in the sun.

How long had it been?

She dragged herself away from the mess she'd left, sitting on her knees and covering her eyes against the brightness. She felt ill and dirty, painfully stiff. Gravel crunched behind her, and instinctively she turned.

The mask was gone, and she saw his face.

His face was all angles and hollows, brown skin stretched over tightly. She stared, not believing. His grey eyes looked back at her coldly, at how she shivered, and didn't blink. Then he turned, broke the look, vanishing behind the car.

Her eyes had adjusted to the sunlight, and they blinked in confusion.

Fields.

Corn waved at her from their stalks, oats blowing kisses behind wooden fences. The dirt road that was empty, vanishing to pinpricks at either end of the hazy horizon.

She thought. Agricultural areas like this were definitely rare in Washington D.C, let alone Virginia. The closest state she could think of was…  
She went very still, stopped breathing. States away.

How would they find her now?

Kate twitched as the man slammed the trunk of the car. He glared at her, tossing the discarded tape and rope on into the shrubbery by the side of the road.

"Regular little Houdini, aren't you?" His voice was harsh, cold.

She didn't answer.

He took a gulp from a water bottle, then spat it out. He watched Kate look around, and his teeth peeled back as he saw her frown.

"Go on, try to run." He gestured at the flat plains around them. "Sure you'll get far."

She glared at him, all the while considering. If she lost him in the fields, she could wait by the road for a car…  
Her hopes evaporated as she saw his hand rest on the gun at his side, watching her with the smallest twitch of his lips that just dared her to try it.

She sighed, closed her eyes and let her muscles slump. She heard him moving, but ignored it as tiredness made her sway. She touched her skull gingerly, found two bumps tacky with blood. How many times had she been forced unconscious in the last twenty-four hours? Surely that couldn't be good for her.

A sudden prickle, racing along her neck. She opened her eyes. He'd gotten close without her realising, and was looking at her hard.

She met his eyes, her gaze flat and cold. She had to crane her neck back to look at his face.

"You're a funny one," he said after a moment. She didn't answer, though it didn't seem to matter. "Most people would have started blubbering by now." He bent down, looking at her closer.

Kate felt her muscles start to stiffen, her shoulders tensing.

"But you…" he knelt, closer. Kate tried to stand, then realised her knees probably wouldn't support her.

He was at eye level. Kate fought the urge to recoil.

"You're like a rat in a cage," he murmured.

She looked him in the eye. "Go to Hell."

His hand rose suddenly as if to strike her. Her eyes widened slightly, but she didn't twitch. He considered her for a moment, then stepped back, away. She silently let out the breath that had caught in her throat, glad he couldn't hear how her heart was smacking at her ribcage.

He looked down the road, resting against the car, ignoring her again.  
They were waiting for something.

Kate took the opportunity to breathe in the fresh air, and watch the sun head down to the horizon. She was curled forward slightly, suppressing the pain of her shriveled stomach.

It was quiet, eerily so. There were no sounds of bugs, or animals. Just the wind, whispering over the shivering crops.  
It brought a prickle to the back of Kate's neck.

"What are we waiting for?" she asked him, breaking the quiet.

He ignored her.

"Where are you taking me?"

Nothing.  
Kate didn't understand. She didn't think this was what had happened to Ducky, Abby or Tony, but she had no way of knowing.

He straightened suddenly, staring down the highway.  
"Get up."

She half rose, then felt her knees start to buckle. He grabbed her under the arm and dragged her against the side of the car. He leant in the open door and popped the hood.

Distantly, Kate could see a car approaching, headlights winking in the twilight.

He was beside her again, gun jabbed sharply against her ribs.  
"Lean under the hood. Pretend you're looking at the engine."

She did, wondering how the hell he was going to pull it off. She was barefoot, for Christ's sake. And the blood would be hard to explain.

She was still, half supporting herself on the car, face and torso out of sight of the oncoming driver. The low rumble of a car engine reached her ears. She felt him turn and wave, flagging them down.

_Keep going, you moron!_ She hissed silently.

The gun dug harder, as if he heard her warning.  
The car stopped.

She was still.

"Hey, you need some…" the man stopped abruptly as he found a gun pointed at his face.

"Step away. Hands behind your head."

"Hey man, easy, I don't—"

"Shut up and do it."

From the corner of her eye Kate watched the man back away, hands raised high. Her captor ordered him to lie on the road, and she watched as they moved further away.

Kate at that point made a bad choice, but she was desperate.  
She was going to make a break for the truck. The man had left his keys, the engine was still running. She could make it.  
She could.

Five steps away, then six…  
She moved.

She was quick, but he had a gun.  
The driver's side window shattered. She ducked, but not fast enough. Lines of fire whipped her skin as glass sprayed in all directions. Her fingers scrabbled for the door, she had it open—

A hand grabbed her by the hair, dragging a shriek out of her as he threw her onto the road, tearing her fingers from the door. Gravel tore at her skin as she skidded. Winded, she fought to breathe, face stinging.

"Can't take my eye of you for ten minutes." His voice was terrifyingly calm.

He stepped forward, following as she scrambled back, too winded to stand. Her eyes rolled, looking for something, anything. She saw the guy who owned the car; still a kid really, saw his open mouth shock as he took her in for the first time.

He exploded in white light as a foot connected with her ribs.  
She curled, blacked out for a second.

The man, satisfied she wasn't going anywhere, turned away to the boy on the road.

"Face down. Start counting."

He transferred his belongings to the car, then turned to eye Kate. Curled on the road, she gave a strangled cough. Her mouth was dark.

There was no sympathy in his look. He opened the trunk of the new car, then lifted her up. Kate saw the yawning darkness and started to fight, kicking out as he forced her inside.

"You fu—"

The trunk slammed shut.

"—cking bastard!"

She gasped, pain cracking across her chest. He had forced her in so her legs were jammed against her injured chest. Her ribs clawed at her lungs, suffocating in the hot darkness. She tried to force the trunk open, breath rasping. Her hands gripped the fabric above her head as she fought down panic.

_Can't breathe!_

Beneath her, the engine roared.

She shut her eyes, gulped, trying to take shallow breaths. Gradually, she felt everything slacken. She was still pressing out, but nothing budged. She took a breath, two, waiting for the agony to fade. She felt a lurch as the car picked up speed.

She wondered distantly about the owner of the car, hoped he was okay.  
Another lurch, and the wall seemed to fold in. It was so dark, too cramped.

She took little, tiny breaths, trying to remember something calming. She thought back to the NCIS office, tried to imagine herself at her desk, comfortable and clean and this finished.

God, she would have killed for a clean shirt. Clean anything…

Another bump, more pain. In the dark, she suddenly thought of the moment when she woke with Tony's arm around her waist, when she was so sure they were both going to die.

He probably had.

A judder, and her elbow cracked against the roof  
Like Ducky. And Abby.

And like that, her last semblance of control was lost.

She yelled, every muscle straining as she fought to get out. She was screaming, crying out of rage and pain, bleeding and choking for air.

No use. No air.

Black spots hovered in her eyes, then nothing

_

* * *

_

_**1:40 pm**_

Gibbs sat at his desk, hands knuckling till whiteness.

What did he have?

Forensic evidence taken from their homes. Still being processed.

Eyewitness statements. Ducky had already given him all he could, and Tony and Abby were in no condition to talk. Ducky's mother had slept through the whole thing, only noticing he was missing when he appeared on the doorstep with stitches. No-one heard anything, not even the gunshot from Kate's as she shot the intruder. For now, nothing.

Surveillance footage from around the various apartment buildings. Under control of the FBI.

Most of the investigation had been passed that way; NCIS was big, but it simply couldn't handle having to process such an amount of information in such a short time without Abby.  
Fornell had told him to rest easy for a while, but if Gibbs rested he had the feeling pictures would start to form in his head, and he couldn't afford that.

"Jethro—" Ducky's voice.

Gibbs looked up, then had to look away because there were stains all down his scrubs. In doing so, he missed the joy on Ducky's face. "Yeah?"

"It's not her."

Gibbs's head slowly swiveled. "What?"

"The body, it's not Caitlin! She's still alive."

"But you said the DNA—"

Ducky's voice was excited, almost gabbled. "I was looking at her medical records; Caitlin broke her arm aged eight. There would be signs of calcification, of bone re-growth. The body in autopsy has never had her arm broken."

"What's wrong?"

Fornell had been drawn instantly to the sound.

"Kate's still alive." Gibbs turned to him, and Fornell saw his eyes were alight.

Fornell's mouth twitched, which was as close as he got to a grin. "Well then, we're not finished yet." His head flicked towards Gibbs. "We got something from the security tapes."

* * *

_**1:52 pm**_

"This was taken from the security tapes outside Sciuto's apartment, about two months ago. Watch."

Gibbs did, and he didn't have to wait long.

He was imposing, no doubt about that. A shadow wearing a cap, shades and hood pulled tight, monstrously tall and with reptilian movements.  
The form wandered up to the entrance; he glanced at the security camera, then away to the doors. He was only there a few seconds, before heading back.  
Suspicious, yes. But he could be anyone…

"Jethro, that's him. That's him." Ducky had gone pale; his lips were pressed together so tight they were almost blue.

Gibbs hesitated. "Ducky, you never saw his face."

"I saw him move, Jethro." Ducky's eyes had changed, and Gibbs realised he hadn't been coping as well as he thought; there was fear in those eyes, and Ducky didn't scare easy. "I saw the bastard break Kate's nose. Look at him! Look at his size!"

Gibbs looked at Fornell. "Can we ID this guy?"

Fornell smiled. "That's the kicker. He left fingerprints on a security camera outside the parking station of DiNotso's apartment. We're dusting now."

Ducky's eyes gleamed. "So we have him."

Fornell shook his head. "One identification isn't enough to bring him. Could claim circumstantial. You still never saw his face."

Gibbs looked at Ducky, and they both knew.

_

* * *

_

_**2:56 pm**_

Tony's head twitched as Gibbs entered the ICU ward, a lopsided smile forming. In the daylight, Gibbs looked at Tony and felt some of the purpose go out of him.  
His face was bloated, purple with bruises. Gibbs mentally hit himself - hard - for not coming to see him sooner.

"Hey Boss…" Tony croaked, then swallowed. He blinked at them hazily, eyes clouded. He focused slowly on Gibbs, forehead gently crinkling. "Didn't you used to have eyebrows?"

Gibbs blinked, then muttered to Ducky.

"How high is his morphine dosage?"  
Ducky winced. "30 mg. He was in a lot of pain, Jethro."

Gibbs just shook his head, then turned back. Tony was smiling vaguely at a point three feet to the left of his head. "We got something to show you."

McGee opened the laptop, held it open so Tony could see. He watched it, eyes half shut.

"Is it him?" McGee's voice was hard, eager.  
"I dunno," Tony muttered, eyes closing for a moment, then opening slowly.

Ducky looked crushed. Gibbs noticed Tony's eyes flick towards him, then he spoke again.  
"It might be. Not sure."

Gibbs could see Tony was trying so hard to concentrate, to report fully, but he just couldn't make his head work.  
"It's fine, don't worry about it. Get some rest—"

His hand had been resting on the side of the bed; He twitched as Tony's hand suddenly jerked, fingers wrapped around his wrist.

"Heard him speak." His voice rasped; his eyes were fully open, shining with the sudden rememberance. "Without the voice… thing." He was fading, but his fingers dug into Gibbs arm, trying to make him understand.

All he needed was a voice. A voice, and Tony could do it.

Gibbs smiled. That was enough. With this, they could bring in the man from the tape, keep him to be identified.

"Hey, hey." Gibbs gently pried Tony's fingers from his arm. "We got it."

Tony nodded, eyes sliding shut.

Gibbs and Ducky left quietly. McGee hesitated, looking down at Tony.

He started when Tony's eyes opened again, tiny slits. They moved to the empty spaces around the bed, finding him and focusing blearily.

"Where's Kate?"

Tony's eyes were foggy, blank. McGee, wordless, could only shake his head.  
Another question he couldn't answer.


	17. Chapter 16

_** 11:36 pm. **_

Jonathan Rooke.

McGee glanced down at the framed picture. A man in army khaki stared back, grey eyes as carefully blank as his house.

They'd rushed in, guns aloft, expecting to find Kate or at least some sign. But no, nothing; no guns, no ammo, only grey carpets and grey walls and blank shelves.

The fingerprint had been smudged with only six distinct alleles; of 2000 matches, the FBI had narrowed it down to 6 possibilities, and the name Jonathan Rooke had jumped out.

An Army brat who followed in his father's footsteps. Over 15 years in the military, including time spent in the 75th Ranger Regiment; honorably discharged due to psychiatric issues related to 'unclassified' events in Afghanistan. Unemployed for the past three years, but living comfortably beyond the pension he had been given.

McGee put down the picture, continued the sweep of the room. It hadn't taken him long to realise what the feeling of wrongness in the house was. The lack of personal effects.  
Generic books, generic food. And, excluding the picture, nothing personal.

This was looking bad for their investigation.

"Agent McGee."  
"Yeah?"  
"Found something interesting."

He turned around, followed the bowed back of Agent Monroe, the FBI agent in charge of the search.

She led him to the kitchen, nodding towards the open fridge. She ran a finger down the edge of the ajar door.

"What do you make of that?"

A hairline crack, barely visible.  
Something fluttered in his stomach.

"Can we open it?"  
Monroe mouth twitched. "Sure can."

**

* * *

**

_**Time Unknown.** _

Kate woke, disoriented and dizzy.

The truck hummed beneath her, stopping and starting. A town, maybe?  
They stopped. She stiffened, listening in the darkness.

The door opened, then a ripple beneath her as it slammed shut. Her skull prickled at the sound of gravel crunching.

He walked past, and she let out a breath.  
The sound faded, and she was alone.

Gingerly she felt the inside of the trunk, testing its strength.

She kicked it.  
Nothing.  
She kicked again, then yelped as there was the almighty bang of someone thumping a fist down on the back.

Kate froze, and could hear him breathing outside. There was a jingle of keys, and the trunk opened.

Fresh air blew in, clearing her head in an instant; She blinked in the light, but didn't make a sound as the gun pressed itself against her side.

A warning.

She saw him glance to the left, then he grabbed her by the arm and half-lifted, half-dragged her from the car. Her knees buckled as she tried to stand, numb from hours without movement.

She had only a glance before he bundled her inside a door. Dilapidated buildings in a cluster; motel. White stones wound into a darkness so total she knew it was apart from civilisation. Shoved inside to darkness, the door slamming shut behind her.

_

* * *

_

**_1:49 am_**

**FOUND $$, CONTRACTS FOR HITS ETC. JR HITMAN, EX MIL. NO CRIM CONECTION. MG **

Gibbs looked at the message without expression, then flipped it shut. In the darkness, lights flickered as they gathered around the vehicle parked beside the corn field.

The kid had baked in the trunk of the abandoned car. According to Ducky, even at sunset it would have taken less than an hour without shade, under the hot metal.  
Better than an oven. Those were his exact words.

_Poor kid. _

Gibbs stood, staring out to the black fields. Lights flickered around him; FBI and NCIS agents alike were searching. It was for her body, he knew, but no one said it within his hearing.

Ducky and Palmer were extracting the body; it had been there for at least twelve hours, because rigor had set in, but not as long as a day, because there was no decomposition.

_Good, or bad? _

Didn't matter. They were following; that was good enough.

Gibbs pocketed the phone. He had McGee were communicating through text messages for the past two hours; the hospital had messaged that Tony had a fever from a possible infection, and he didn't want to miss a call he didn't have to. Abby hadn't changed.

He blinked as white light scalded his eyes; the FBI had the Floodlights on at last. He shook his head, looked away and down. He blinked, saw a darkened patch of earth that on closer inspection was dried vomit;  
His mouth twitched a little. Kate never did travel well.

There was a call; someone had found something. He straightened, stomach clenching. An NCIS agent moved out of the wheat, bearing a bloodstained rope. He breathed, turned away.

Fornell was standing apart, gazing curiously at the road. Gibbs went over.  
Fornell pointed to the tire treads. "Looks like he took the guy's car."

Gibbs nodded. Once they had the victims ID, a search could be put out on the car. Of course, by then, he would have probably changed it again.

They were getting close; he couldn't run forever.

But then, neither could he hold Kate forever. Whatever reason he was still holding her, they didn't know. But her usefulness would run out eventually.

* * *

**_Time Unknown_**

He slammed into the door again, and she heard the splintering.

"Shit shit shit shit—" Her arms strained, palms flat against the wall outside but the damn window was too fucking small. Her hips couldn't fit through.

The lock on the bathroom door exploded, and she didn't even have time to scream before a hand got her by the foot.

He yanked her, dragged her inside. She hit the tiles with a crack.

He hit her, he had her. Crushed in his grip, his hand around her neck and the gun rammed into her cracked rib. She tried to throw him off, punch him, but the gun pushed harder and she saw stars. His eyes were wide, so angry she thought this was it, she was dead now.

"You think you're smart? Think that was a good idea?"

He was choking her, pressing her down. Kate was shaking, hands clawing at his arm; how had he known, she'd only been in the bathroom for a minute—  
Gun pressed harder, something popped in her side and she gasped.

Face close to her, noses almost touching. Close so she could see the brown circles around his irises, the little red canals of his veins.

"I only have one job now. Bring you to Him, conscious and coherent."

She was frozen, fingers still biting into his. She couldn't move, he was too heavy.

He sighed, and breath washed over her like poison. "Idiot bitch, don't you know what I could do to you?"

It was a hiss, and then his forehead was touching her. The violation of it sent a spasm of terror through her. Her muscles went rigid, her mind wiped clean.

He could do anything. Nothing she could do. Nothing.

The grip on her neck tightened, and she couldn't speak.  
They were frozen. Kate struggled to breathe, feeling his sweat soak onto her skin. She could have sworn her heart was trying to wrench its way out of her chest. she could hear herself almost sobbing, and distantly she was ashamed.

He was waiting, for a sign someone had heard, for that knock that would mean she would pay.

She shut her eyes. _Think, you idiot! _

Nothing, no way out.

No knock came.

He relaxed slowly, and she nearly cried as his hand released her neck. It fell on her arm, hauling her to her feet.  
He shoved her forward, into the room, slammed the bathroom door shut.

_

* * *

_

Tough little thing.  
He shouldn't have picked her.

Should have gone for the other one, the one whose arm he broke when he caught her crawling out of the van. She would have been easy, subdued; although he doubted whether she would have survived this long.  
Not the young guy. That grin pissed him off too much.

She was crouched, watching him as he opened the mini-fridge and removed a gin and tonic. He considered, then tossed a bag of peanuts on to the floor in front of her.  
She didn't move, only reaching for it when he turned away.

He should have left her to burn, vanish like the original mission had intended.  
Not this farce.  
This wasn't worth it, not even for the extra money.

He watched her out of the corner of his eye.

She sat on the floor, back against the wall and as far away as possible. Keeping one eye on him, she ripped open the bag and wolfed the peanuts down; her eyes flicked around the room, assessing the windows, the door lock. He barely believed he had caught her halfway out that tiny window, wishing the recruits he had trained had half of that guile.

Her eyes hadn't quite lost that glassy look; no trouble for a while, then. But there would be trouble again, and he was anticipating it with something close to pleasure.

* * *

**Time Unknown**

Kate realized her eyelids were starting to droop, shook herself slightly. She had to be careful not to let her guard down. Her side hurt and she still trembled, but she was untouched. She couldn't lose her…

Her thoughts stopped. Her eyes widened.

Her face had appeared on the television screen.

Her attention snapped. "…nationwide man-hunt for both NCIS special agent Caitlin Todd and her captor. The man has been identified as Jonathan Rooke, previously of the US army-"

Her face was replaced by his. She swiveled her eyes towards him. He looked hard at the screen, and she couldn't read his face.

"…Three other victims have been recovered alive, although two are in a critical condition. FBI Agent Fornell released a statement early this morning-"

She felt a weakness that was nothing to do with hunger, sitting heavily on the floor. They weren't dead.

Abby, Tony, Ducky.

They weren't dead.

Fornell appeared on screen for a second, and she craned to see if she could see Gibbs.

There was a click, and Mr. Ed appeared on the screen.

The man—Rooke—threw the remote down and leant back, eyes half shut in thought.

Kate was quivering. She wouldn't be so optimistic as to call it hope, but there was new energy, an alertness that cut through the shock and fatigue.  
She wasn't finished yet.

She sat up, alert. She carefully looked around, taking everything in, measuring the distance to the door, to the window with the curtains drawn tight. Not now, but later, she might have a chance.  
He was watching her, eyes narrowed.

She looked at him, suddenly empowered by knowing his name.

"Rooke." She said it quietly, baiting him with it.

His eyes gazed at her for a moment, then he turned away. He poured a Gin and Tonic from the fridge into a cracked mug. She watched, then glanced at the gun he'd left on the table. Maybe—

He saw her looking, picked it up and holstered it. He took a sip, eyes flicking up to her and not moving. She could feel her skin prickling.

He settled back down, eyes turning languidly to focus on the screen.

She waited, but he didn't move.

Mr. Ed finished, and an evangelist took his place, then Letterman, then a foreign movie.  
He didn't move an inch.  
Kate knew it was better to try and talk, try and remind him she was a person, but the look of those eyes silenced her.

She was shaking with tiredness, and the adrenaline was fading. The room kept jerking when she moved her head, and her eyes flickered shut. She dug her nails into the fingers Tony's grip had fractured, and the sting made her jerk.

She couldn't fall asleep, there was no telling what might happen, what he could do.  
Her eyelids twitched down. Had to stay awake.

She thought she heard him moving, but it seemed hazy…

* * *

_ **2:38 am** _

Gibbs's search had been halted by a slight problem.

Tony wasn't looking so hot.

Face grey, cheeks rounded and purpled like peaches. Even through the glass Gibbs could see that fat red bruise around his neck, slowly rising in coils.  
Nothing compared to the cat-scan that showed his walnut brain rising like bread inside his skull.

"They're sure it's not an infection." Gibbs's voice lacked the inflection for a question. It was flat, tired.

Ducky shook his head. Even with the hours of sleep Jethro had caught between the search, he looked like death. "No. He's suffered multiple concussions during his ordeal, it's caused SIS."

Gibbs didn't glance at him, eyes focused on Tony. Only the twitch of his mouth revealed his annoyance at not knowing what SIS meant.

"He's getting cerebral edema".

"Brain swelling." Gibbs recognised the term; the same term had kept him in a coma before, back when…  
He blinked the thought away. "Why didn't they tell us?"

"They didn't realise it was this bad. Swelling takes a while to show, and Anthony was on a lot of painkillers; normally a headache is a warning, but under the conditions…"

Gibbs watched as a nurse injected a clear liquid through a syringe into Tony's IV. He knew what was happening, without Ducky telling him; inducing paralysis, to control his blood pressure, breathing, anything that could make it worse.

"They're going to take him to the ICU. Going to try and remove some fluid, try and control the pressure."

"Chances aren't good, are they?"  
"No."

There was an ache inside Gibbs. He hated them, the people who were stopping him from being here, with his dying people. Meant he couldn't have sat by DiNozzo's bed so he could have seen this before it happened, stayed by Abby as she hung in suspended animation. Forced him on this infernal chase after Rooke and Kate across states.

Made him have to turn around, look at Ducky who had the look that said he needed Gibbs here to tell him it was fine, he had it under control.

"Tell me if anything changes."

He turned so he couldn't see Ducky's face crinkle, walked away.

**

* * *

**

**Time Unknown**

Kate woke, extremely annoyed and aching with stiffness.

Dark, and it was cold again. He'd left the window open. Kate saw it and tried to sit up, but was yanked back. He'd handcuffed her to the bed. He'd gagged her too, so there was no chance of her screaming…

Bed…

She froze, took a mental checklist of her body.  
No new bruises, no…anything else.

Her eyes moved slowly, looking for Rooke.

He was slumped in the chair, gun held limply in one hand.

She moved.  
He didn't.

She was breathing hard, and it sounded so loud she clenched her lips tight. Okay, first. Handcuffs.  
She looked up, glaring at the metal. She pulled at it, and they jingled softly.

But would they break?  
She yanked hard. Nothing.

Her skin shivered.

She froze suddenly, looked up.

His eyes were open, watching her from the chair. Light from outside the window shone on the dark holes of his skull as his head lifted. He stood, and she scrambled into a half sitting position, hands twisted awkwardly. He took a step and she jerked back, wincing as the wound in her side split open.

Her thoughts were panicky. She was going to kick him, maybe, wait till he got too close…  
He brought the gun to bear, and all thoughts died.

He was smiling, and there was nothing she could do but glare at him with hate as he reached inside his backpack.

_Oh no._

Another needle.  
She pulled away, but he had a gun—

He came.

She realized in that instant that he would not let her go; he would keep her, take her wherever they were heading, then that would be her end. He was going to kill her eventually; might as well make it sooner.  
She kicked out wildly, catching him in the stomach, and she could have screamed in frustration as he came right back at her. God, what she would have given to be able to use her hands—

His hand got her by the throat, and the needle stabbed into her arm.

The gag caught her angry yell; within seconds everything started to drain away. She kicked him again, a third time, but already she was fading. She slumped back as he started to undo her handcuffs. His voice murmured as her eyes went dark.

"Last time, Kate."

She had time to wonder about the odd tone of his voice, then there was nothing at all.


	18. Chapter 17

It's cold in this room, but by now you're beyond caring.

Time…run out again.  
At least this is the last time.

He brings her.

Rooke. Ah, Rooke. What a wonderful job he did. But you underestimated Gibbs, overestimated Olsen.  
But it's okay. There is still her. You can still pass a message through, one way or another. But first, you have to see her. Look into her face.

The door opens, and he brings her in. You turn on the light behind you, wait as he pushes her roughly onto a chair. There is a sack over her head, and you frown slightly. You never figured Rooke for the melodramatic. He handcuffs her, and you watch. You can hear her breathing, see how her head is bowed and bent over—

Rooke pulls the sack away.  
Well.

He was certainly thorough in keeping her contained.

The light blinds her, and she recoils. You watch as she breathes in and takes in the smell of the place, the sting of chemicals and the sweetness of rot.  
She knows you are there.

Before, in that room, you saw her as above the others. You had a certain respect for the doctor, yes, but the other two would not work. The scientist would not care past the pain in her arm; bedsides, she wasn't built for combat of this kind.  
The man would refuse to let himself understand. He knows where the lines are between good and evil.

But this one….she will understand. And that is all you want.

Look, even now she's testing the handcuffs, watching you out of the corner of her eye. No damsel in this one.  
You lean forward, and she pulls back slightly.

"What is your name?"  
A test, and nothing more.

She is mulish, angry even in her exhaustion. "You know my name."  
You feel yourself smile, sit back. "Special agent Caitlin Todd. Kate."

She listens harder, her eyes widen with shock.  
She knows, she hears, and she can't believe it.

"You're a woman."

Yes.

And people wonder how you've lasted so long. That's because chauvinism isn't as dead as people think; people still don't expect a woman. You had seen the look on Rooke's face as her too understood, as he brought her into the room.  
Your communication with him had not been as truthful as he wished, and now you know he doesn't trust you.

She takes it quickly, and it pleases you.

She's getting used to the light, and is looking at you directly. Her broken nose has swollen since you last saw her.  
She's looking at you hard.

"You were that…man." She frowns. She is remembering the room. The suit you wore was very good at disguising forms that don't need to be seen.

Smart one.

"Yes. You asked me what I wanted with you." You pause. "Do you still want to know?"  
"No. I want to change the question."

You feel yourself smile.

"Now I want to ask you want you want with Gibbs."

You pause, think for a moment.  
"Yes, Agent Todd. You deserve that, at least."

You have been watching her, and you see she isn't as strong as she first looked. Her breath is tight, she is bent over in pain.

The short version, then.

* * *

How to begin?

Something you did, you didn't think mattered at first.  
It's almost too long gone, but there was a boy. There always is. Things happened, but you moved away from each other.  
You were idiotically young, of course. Foolish? No. Naïve. There is a difference.

You had a baby, and he was going to leave you.  
In essence, it sounded so simple. It never is.

You were sick, angry. You never wanted it, you were too young. You left it with him, hating them both. Who'd have thought you were in love once?

You went, back to your father, who took you in because he had known he was right about that boy. You forgot your husband and your son, worked in your father's business until he died. He had been vaguely criminal, a good touch with his business. Anything and Eveything. But you did better.  
After his death, you turned it into an empire.  
Twenty years later, you'd almost forgotten about them both. By then you were as big as the mob, using your father's nickname to make the world fear you.

Immaterial. None of that matters now.

You got a letter, and it told you that your husband had died.

It mentioned his son.

Son.  
Your son.

Why after so many years, should this have affected you? You almost threw the letter away, but fished it out.  
You'd had ovarian cancer by then. It was in remission, but there would be no children again.

So, you looked him up. He had his name, Cunningham. In the Navy, of all things. You offered to meet, but he politely declined.

You asked again about a month later, but you never got an answer. He had been arrested for drug trafficking. Turns out he had been part of your business all along, and you never knew. (Life always was a bitch).

He was connected to an operation running out of a day surgery. It was gone by the time you got to Virginia, and so was he.  
Dead. Dead in his cell.

And his son, your grandson…

Oh god, so much gone. Why now, why now?

It's illogical, to miss something you never had. But that you did, even as you through yourself into working and felt the cancer return, watching as everything you did came to naught because there was no-one to share it with.

The best doctors in the world told you that you were dying, and all you could think of was that you had accomplished nothing at all. No children to take all you had worked for, to have the comfort you had strained for. It would pass to someone you didn't even like.

Your whole life. Gone.  
You found yourself going over the case files. You didn't know for what, but you kept doing it.

You found a name. The man who had done the operation. Been at all three, whose mistakes had cost you this.

Gibbs.  
Gunnery Sargent Leroy Jethro Gibbs.

_Gibbs._

* * *

You don't believe in chance, or coincidence. Gibbs was there, and he didn't save your grandson. He didn't save you son, though he could have. The cog on which all your tragedies turn.

Couldn't save his own family, let alone yours. But, it had happened to him. He should have known better. Should have tried harder, thought about what this could have meant.  
(You see her frown at this, and realise he hadn't told them about his dead wife and child).

God, you were so angry. You never hated a man this much, not even your husband. You wanted to kill him, even planned how and why and who.  
But even the thought wasn't enough.

You pushed it away for months as you slowly faded, but that name kept haunting you in your sleep.  
You watched footage of him, from the news. Even set up survaillence. Watched him smack the back of the scruffy Italian's head, kiss the top of his little goth scientist's hair.  
He was content.  
Careless.

So you gave him another try. Raised the stakes. Obviously the pain of the first lost hadn't been enough to ensure vigilance.

(_Punishment?_ she asks.  
She doesn't quite believe it when she says it. She is understanding, because if she didn't she would accept revenge).  
More than revenge.

Maybe. You don't know. An Obsession, a drive.  
A test, to see if he deserved all he had.

He had to feel what you had felt; Feel the horror of knowing as he watches them die, one by one till he is alone like you.

Good thing you planned a back-up; He passed, or at least he almost did. He saved his doctor from collapse, saved his scientist from drowning, saved her partner from choking.

(She didn't know what happened, you suddenly see. She's gone white and when she meets your eye she loathes longer a grieving mother. You're just a criminal again, and you are disappointed in her).

Now, for the final underhand blow. Kamikaze shot.

For all that the others may heal, may join him again, there will always be the one he never found. The one that vanished that he could search for, hunting for eternity, but never find. The trail will end here.

He would remember again, what it was like to lose a family.

* * *

Ah. She knows.

You always liked seeing that dawning moment, of knowing. Some stiffen, go pale. The terror drives others crazy, sends them wild.  
Very few does what she does.

She sighs, as though she saw it coming. But then, she worked for the President. She knew things like this could happen.

"And there is something you must learn, Agent Todd. Your Gibbs is not immortal, he is not a hero. He won't save you."

You have a headache again. The Cancer has metastecised in your left hemisphere, and it's getting harder to think straight.

Silence. She looks at you, tired.  
What is she thinking, behind those eyes?

But she says nothing.

You blink, and Rooke moves. She doesn't go quietly, but she goes.  
The right choice, you think. The Doctor would not have had that empathy. In that moment of looking she did not have all hate.

She is limp, and he takes her out.  
It is over now, for you and her.

Gibbs will be closing in, you can feel it. He'll hate you now, like you hated him once, maybe still do. Not that it matters, You will be dead before he gets the chance to shoot you.

* * *

Kate wished she had thought to spit on her, to kick out; but the sack was over her head in an instant, and she fell into a chemical darkness, fighting all the way.

She should have said she didn't care about the woman's dead son, the dead grandson that she never knew.  
But there was grief, and in her exhaustion, her pain, she believed that the old woman had cared once, and she had said nothing.

Her and her idiot empathy.

It didn't make her dying for it any better.

* * *

In the ICU in Bethesda naval hospital, a balance was shifting.

A young man was lying still as a doctor rubbed antiseptic over his shaved scalp, ready to cut in the desperate attempt to stop his brain being crushed. Two rooms away, a nurse noted activity on the EEG of a coma woman. Her eyelids twitched as though she was dreaming.  
Miles away, in the passenger's seat of a car, a man of iron is dreaming of the faces of the family he lost.

And close but an eternity away a woman staggered into unconsciousness while an elderly woman, clawed fingers steady, turned off the light.


	19. Chapter 18

_Midday_

The motel was at the edge of a dusty cornfield, and Gibbs knew if Tony had been conscious and present he would have been shooting off references to _Children of the Cornfield _and _Psycho_ left and right.

The manager had nothing to say about Rooke; only that he had been abrupt, cold and had left in the middle of the night without paying.  
He hadn't seen Kate.

Gibbs walked carefully across the carpet, looking over at the bagged evidence. Peanut wrappers, a cracked glass…  
What he needed was something to lead them, to tell them where Rooke was going, what he intended to do.

Ducky was looking at the bloodstain on the bed, mouth twisted unhappily. "I don't like this, Jethro."

Gibbs came over as Ducky touched the stain with a gloved hand, pulling the crumpled sheet flat.

"New wound?" Gibbs asked.  
"I don't know. Could be his, could be hers. It could mean anything."

Anything meant a lot of things, but Gibbs had already gone over the sheet inch by inch and couldn't tell if Rooke had hurt her like that. The blood made his muscles burn with the desire to break something.

Ducky's voice was soft. "She'll be alright, Jethro."

"I don't know, Duck."

Ducky straightened slowly, focussed. Gibbs was holding the cracked mug, a lost expression on his face.

"Have you ever known a hostage to survive this long, like this?"

Ducky considered before answering. "It is uncommon, but not unheard of."

"We don't know why he still has her."  
"Gibbs…"  
"No demands, no nothing."

Ducky stared. Gibbs didn't give up. He didn't loose hope.  
This was not Gibbs.

Ducky gripped his arm. Hard. "They are going to be alright. All of them."

Gibbs face didn't crumple, he didn't sag. Just put down the mug, looking tired.

"I don't know, Ducky."

* * *

_**Time**** Unknown**_

"EKG, EEG, CT Scan…"

"Minor bruising, some lesioning."

"That's incredible. He should be dead."

_Who's dead?_ Tony thought distantly. Though he was surprised he could, considering how it felt as though his head had been crushed in a vice. If he had been able to do more than twitch, he would have been moaning for sure. Or throttling painkillers out of the idiot doctor who was resting weight on his leg.

"Still looks like crap though. His face looks like a squashed melon."

He opened his mouth to voice his complaint. A bubble of air popped out.  
_Well, that was successful._

"Hey, he's waking up."

"Mr DiNozzo? How are you feeling."

Tony peeled an eye open. A pair of glasses and a moustache stared back.

"Al…alright." He swallowed. His throat had swollen while he slept, air drifted through like a straw.

"Mind if we ask you a few questions?"

"Go…" Tony had been trying to say go to hell, but he didn't have the stamina.

"Do you know where you are?"

"Bethesda."

"Your name?"

"Anthony DiNozzo. Middle name not…important…"

They seemed excited. Could they not see his head was killing him?

"Date?"

If only it was a nurse asking the question. Besides, he didn't know anyway. "Sometime in January. After the 14th."

"Good, good. When your feeling better we've got more tests to run." The Doctor looked ready to bounce on his heels. "This is unbelievable, Mr DiNozzo. You brain had been swelling, we thought you wouldn't make it."

"…What?"

Tony didn't understand. He had been fine, he had walked to see…walked to…  
He felt his forehead frown. The memory was gone.

But it had been hours since he'd hurt his head. Didn't make sense. Head felt like murder.

"After your strangulation, we put you on oxygen to help you recover. Unfortunately, the high levels went to the area that needed healing, in this case your brain, causing it to swell. We put you on a carbon dioxide rich supply of air, caught it just in time. Though we had to…"

Tony didn't really listen to the rest. He only had one remark.

"So it's your fault."

The Doctor looked suddenly apprehensive. "Well…yes."  
Tony shut his eyes. Blood was throbbing against his optic nerve. Hurt like sin. But it didn't matter.

"Tell my boss that when he gets there, otherwise I'm going to get it… for nearly… dying…" Tony's eyes dropped during the sentence, finally falling shut.

The Doctor blinked. His Attending leant to mutter in his ear.

"You're sure he hasn't got brain damage?"

* * *

_**Time Unknown**_

The car slowed on the winding road, slid to a stop.  
Inside, Rooke sat for a moment, drumming his fingers on the wheel.

Then he reached over, opened the glove compartment. Took out the handgun. Opened the door, stepped out. For a moment he stood still, eyes closed and head turned upward. Rain tapped his cheeks, tiny cold needles.

It was quiet outside the truck, and he stood for a moment to listen. There were trees all around, silent and still. He stepped away, looked down the small path winding away from the road. The Pit was still there, it's mouth open in a wide grimace that could be seen through a gap in the trees.

He'd used it before, for this purpose. A natural sinkhole, deep and far away from the road.

He stepped forward, listened again. No cars coming, and he knew there wasn't likely to be any this far off the highway.  
Not that it mattered. With any luck, it would be quick.

He opened the trunk gently, swung it open.  
Inside, the woman was still.

_Kate_, he remembered, _Kate._

He should never have called her by her name.

Her head was turned away, and she was curled up into a ball. Sleeping, or unconscious. He hoped he could do this before she woke up. He would have to be quick.  
_Coward_, he thought.

Ten steps, and it would be done. He grabbed her around the middle, hauled her out from the trunk and dragged her quickly off the road.  
He should have known better.

One step and she woke up.  
Two she saw the woods.  
On the third she saw the pit, and was fighting by the fourth.

_Somehow_, he thought as he twisted her arm, _they always know_.

Now, just before point of death, she fought with everything she had. He grappled, marvelling at how even now she still fought back so hard. It was like trying to hold to some writhing lizard; she nearly got away, but his arm caught her across the chest.

She cried out, and the trees absorbed her scream. Nature had perfected this place in a way no man could have.  
He had her, under the arms, dragging her closer to the clearing.

Two steps.

Her nails tore skin off his face, lines of fire.  
Too late.

At the mouth of the pit, he grabbed her by the hair and forced her down onto her knees. Beneath them, the mouth of the pit yawned.

He'd done this before, but never like this. Never such an execution—  
He couldn't think, not yet. It must be done first. He pulled the gun from his back, against her skull—  
"Please." He stopped despite himself.

God, she was looking at him.

In his hand the gun quivered, begging to be let free. But he couldn't shoot with those eyes staring at him.  
"Look away." It came out a whisper.  
She didn't, she couldn't; he could feel the hands wrapped around his wrists shaking. His hand went down to the base of her head, pressed; forced her to look away, look down.

Her voice was wobbling, he could hear her muttering. He pushed the gun harder, and she was silent.  
Sudden quiet, but for the wind and the gentle fall of rain.

He swallowed, finger twitching on the trigger.

_Just do it._

Her face was turned down, staring into the dark, but he could see she was crying.  
There, at least, she was like anyone.

He took in a breath; let it out, then shoot. He could feel her pulse under his fingers…

She acted then.  
An elbow caught him in the knee, and as the pain loosed his grip she wrenched herself free.

He stared at his empty hand, bewildered.

She landed, rolled, then started to slide downward on the slippery surface towards the dark gap. He watched as she scrabbled and slid, grabbing a jutting root and jerking to a stop, half hanging over the gap. Her fingers dug in, and her eyes caught his. They were blank with terror as he stepped forward.

His fingers twitched on the gun. His knee stung with pain, and all charity was gone. His arm shifted.

She saw it in his eyes. Her hand let go and she slid back, sucked down by gravity. The bullet hit the dirt.

She fell without a sound.

He was still for a moment, listening. A thud, a splash, then nothing. Moving slowly, he went over to the edge, but there was only darkness and silence. His hand lifted, gun pointing into the dark as he considered. Then he holstered, stepped back and away,

He vanished toward the road, and the clearing was silent.

* * *

_**Time Unknown**_

"Oww…"

"Tony?"

"Mpmmphrr…." Tony could feel the blood against the back of his eyes. No way he was opening them. Keep'm shut and try and breath until he could pass out again, that was the plan.

"Tony, it's me. McGee?" McGee's hand gripped his wrist, worry in every polished cuticle. Wow, how bad _did_ his head look?

Tony relented. "I know that." He turned his head slightly towards McGee's voice. Geez, he'd rather another broken leg than this. Hurt was nowhere near what his skull felt like.

It had gotten colder; there was no light sinking through his eyelids.  
Night, then.

"What did you do to my head?"

"You had SIS, your brain is still--"

"I know, I know. Too much oxygen and DiNozzo's head goes boom."

"Ok."

There was a moment of silence. Tony suddenly got a very bad feeling.

"What."

"Nothing."

"Probie. I've got a squashed brain. Don't hold out."

"It's just... Your head looks awful."

"...Wha?"

"They had to cut your skull".

"Oh man." That was bad.

Then he thought about it some more.

"My hair?"

"Ah…"

"Aw man. I'm going to kill that doctor." He tried to sit up, open his eyes, but the pain ticked over and his brain gave him another timeout.

No wonder his skull felt cold.

* * *

_**Time Unknown. **_

Kate's fall was silent, terrifying.

Darkness engulfed her in seconds, and she scrambled in panic at the ground racing away under her fingers. She slid on her stomach down, then suddenly she was falling. She grabbed blindly, trying to land forward on her hands.

A muddy outcrop smacked her in the chest. Her mouth opened but no sound came out. Right side screaming even as she couldn't, she hit the bottom.

Water rushed into her mouth as she sank underneath, and she flailed, blind. She jerked, and rose gasping into the air, coughing up water. The impact had left her entire right side useless; she dragged herself to the edge one handed. She clung onto a rock, sobbing for air.

Down here it was almost too dark to see, with only the faint glistening of light touching the scum on the stones. She looked up, and saw him looking over the edge.

He stood for a moment, then vanished.

Kate waited, breathing hard.

He didn't come back.

She stood, gasping as sharp pain stabbed into her side. She put her hand there and found blood. Her side felt too big, too rounded. She pressed slightly and she clenched her teeth and screwed her eyes shut.

_Not good._

The light was fading as she sloshed through the water, feeling the sides of the sinkhole. Too wet to get a good hold, though roots stuck out… Her right arm was weak, but she hauled herself up onto a rock.

She was breathing hard, and it _hurt_.

Panting, she clung to the rock. Her lungs ached and she was still shivering; the light above her was darkening. But he was gone, and she was still alive; all she had to do was get out, and she would be okay.

She would be okay.

* * *

_**7:07pm **_

Darkness.

Fornell stood across from Gibbs, and Ducky knew what was happening.

They had nothing. The car had been abandoned, and the vehicle that had taken it's place had left it's numberplates behind, lying in the dust. No clues, no path to follow.  
Dead end.

Ducky stood in the silence, watching as Gibbs took in the loss, crumbling at the knowledge he could do nothing.

Distantly, he could hear the sound of thunder.


	20. Chapter 19

_**Time Unknown**_

_She can't do it anymore. _

_It's raining like someone inverted the ocean. She's fumbling blind with no light and only the thunder to lead her forward. Her left ankle won't support her, so she's leaning on a long branch and wobbling. She trips and her knees are cut on the rocks, but at least she knows she's still on the dirt road. She takes one breath, two, then staggers upright. _

_It's been hours, and she can't breathe. _

_Something in her chest popped about an hour before, and she can't take a breath without feeling like she's been stabbed; too bad she's bleeding like she is.  
She's staggering, the cold is making her dizzy; she falls again, and this time she doesn't stand up. _

_Rain smacks her in the face. She's sobbing because its just too hard, it hurts to move and she just wants to lie down and clutch her side.  
And always, always the cold rain that still beats her down to earth._

Get up.

_Voice in her head._

"_Go away," she mumbles, but it's ignoring her._

Get up.

_She can imagine Gibbs standing over her and giving her that look that can crack stone, looking at her crawl forward._

Get up!

_It's his voice now, in that tone that instinctively makes her obey, try to stand again, even if it's all in her head._

_She knows this is the last time. If she falls again, nothing on earth will drag her up. _

_She counts the steps, because if her concentration slips she's gone. She doesn't feel the rocks change, or hear something else under the rain. _

_Lights._

_Lights!_

_She doesn't even register the screech of tires, just stands as the car blows past and skids to a stop. She's blinded, black spots floating as someone opens the door to yell._

"_What do you…"_

_The old man stops mid sentence, mouth slowly dropping as he takes her in. _

_She stares back, trembling._

_Then slowly, like through smoke, she sinks down onto the gravel. The man starts forward, catches her before she smacks the ground, but she never knew. _

* * *

_**Jackson Hospital, Detroit.**_

_**11:03 PM**_

Dr. Harry May was pissed. Mostly at the weather, but he was willing to spread it to the interns who were stupid enough to approach him when he was on the way out. Fortunately for the paramedic who grabbed his arm, ambulance staff were immune.

"Two feet from the door. So close," he said to himself a little sadly.

The paramedic ignored him, steering him back to Emergency. "We just brought someone in. Caucasian female, late twenties to early thirties, with collapsed lung and severe bruising. Unknown medical history."

As they passed through the swinging doors, a wave of alarms hit him. A trauma team was already there, rigging up machine's and IV's to the unconscious woman. A nurse leant over her, barely shooting him a glance. "Unresponsive, blood pressure dropping—"

"Car accident?" he muttered to the paramedic.

"No, she was found on the side of the road, no car in sight."

"What?"

"No idea how she got there. She doesn't even have shoes."

The trauma surgeon clicked his teeth. Injuries were man made, then; at least he didn't have to look for shrapnel. But men are unpredictable in what they break.

He turned, noticed a bug-eyed intern staring at the chaos. "Get a SA nurse up here, and contact the police." He turned away to the head nurse. "Take her up, get a full body scan—"

"Sir—"

"Did you not hear me the first time?"

"Sir, I've seen her before!"

"Excuse me?"

"She was on the news."

Dr. May glanced at her face, splattered with mud and blood.

Then he looked again. Closer.

* * *

**_11:25 PM_**

Tony's eye cracked open in annoyance as McGee blew in. Nurses kept waking him up to do cognitive tests, and McGee wasn't nearly pretty enough to do the same.

"They found her!"

The other eye half opened. "What?"

"Kate! Well, they're not sure. They found a Jane Doe on the side of the road in Detroit-"

Both of Tony's eyes were open now, and he was staring. "Detroit?!"

"And one of the orderlies thought she recognised her, and Gibbs is going up to confirm-"

"Confirm?" He struggled to sit up. "Why can't the woman say…?"

McGee seemed to deflate slightly. "She's in surgery; she's got a collapsed lung and—"

"Kate had a busted rib." Yes, he remembered. She got kicked there...  
The details were starting to go fuzzy. But then, other bits came back so bright they hurt.

"What about the bastard? Rooke?"

McGee shook his head.

* * *

_**2:12 AM**_

"You're family?"

Dr. May the trauma surgeon looked Gibbs over suspiciously. There were purple shadows under his eyes.

"No, I'm a federal agent." He flipped the badge. "It's part of an ongoing investigation."

"Hmm. Something to do with a kidnapping?"

"Something like that." He closed it with a snap. "How is she?"

"She's stable; we've got her in a private room. I assume you'll want all the forensic evidence?"  
Gibbs blinked. He'd completely forgotten.

"We did the usual, finger scrapings, SA kit-"

The thought of that had not occurred to Gibbs. It made his stomach burn. The man saw the expression on his face, and said quickly "There was no sign of sexual assault."

"You're sure?"

"Yes. It's all in here." He handed Gibbs the file. "We'll send her clothes and other samples to your lab?"

"Thank you." He put the file under his arm, it having gone already from his mind. Something more important took its' place.

"Can I see her?

* * *

_**Time Unknown**_

Kate could hear a humming, just out of hearing. It hurt vaguely, like the feel of a dentists' drill under Novacaine.

The sun was burning orange into her eyes.

Dusk, dawn?

She breathed; the sharp pain in her side was still there, but the pressure was gone. Instead there was a buzzing numbness, throbbing softly at her feet and side. It was odd, to not be in pain; her throat itched from the tube snaking down her airway.

She opened her eyes for a moment, closed them.  
Too hard.

She heard something shift, forced her eyes open again. Her head turned slowly away, looking to the right. Gibbs smiled at her from a chair, covered in a layer of dust with shiny burns on his face. He spoke, but she couldn't catch it. She blinked and focused harder. Gibbs slipped in and out and his voice rose and fell. She couldn't…  
Her eyelids started to slide shut.

He saw she was falling, so he started talking fast. He was leaning now, at eye level. She felt his breath on her face.

"…try and transfer…Detroit…"

She didn't know what he was trying to say, and it was confusing her. She tried to speak but the tube choked, and she coughed as her body fought to get it out.  
A hand landed on her shoulder, stopping her from sitting up.

Gibbs's lips moved, and the words formed in her head.  
_It's finished, it's done._

She felt a hand close gently around her fingers and could hear him speak, smile, but she was beyond understanding.

Her eyes shut, and she was gone.

* * *

_**06:30 AM **_

Gibbs held onto Kate's hand as she fell into unconsciousness.

There it was again; that tremendous urge to break something.

Her breaths were fluttery, so shallow it was almost panting; Her sixth rib had fractured in three places, poking twin holes in her right lung. According to the surgeon, had she not been found, she wouldn't have survived the night; she barely survived the massive internal bleeding.

His hand tightened unconsciously around her fingers in anger; he let go, put her palm gently on her stomach. She didn't so much as quiver.

The bastard, he'd left her half-dead. Left her with feet that looked like mincemeat from trying to walk barefoot through a forest, with a swollen face and punctured lung.

But she was alive. She was okay.

They were all okay.

Ducky, McGee, Tony, Kate, Abby...

All alive.

His jaw stiffened.

But not okay.

* * *

**07:20 AM**

Ducky slumped down into the soft waiting room chair, rubbing the bridge of his nose. His glasses were pinching again, and there was a headache sparking up from his right temple.

Jethro had finally got the message through. The Jane Doe was Kate, and she was alive.

McGee had been ecstatic; Tony had sort of half smiled then rolled into unconsciousness. He himself had felt dizzy with the relief that, almost impossibly, they had all come out of this alive.

But the joy was fading.

It had been nearly two days, and Abby had not woken up.

He rose, walked through the corridors until he got to her room. It was empty; her parents had gone, exhausted, to a nearby hotel. No change appeared imminent.  
There she was. Just like before. Nestled between machines and breathing gently.

"Hello Abigail," he slid down on the chair beside his bed.

She didn't reply. Not a twitch.

He sighed faintly. "I'm sorry. I suppose I should try something a bit more cunning to prompt you back to the waking world. Forgive me, I'm tired." He slipped his hand around her fingers, which were limp and bare. They looked wrong without her rings.

He sat for a time, watching her monitors. They showed no changes, and as time went on, it would become more unlikely that they would. The possibility that parts of her remained dead from those minutes where she was without breath would increase.  
The thought made a little ache inside his chest.

"Abby." He squeezed her hand slightly. The words that always came so easily seem to stick in his throat, and he stared helplessly at her. She was not dead, she was hanging close by, in stasis. It should make it easy.

"I don't know if you are still...still around." Her head was turned away. There was no sign she could hear him. "But it's fine, we're here. We'll be...we'll wait for as long as it takes you."

_We won't give up hope._

Inconsequential. Meaningless, something to make himself feel better. There must be something more--

He stopped. Looked down.

Two of her fingers wrapped gently around his thumb. And as he watched, they slowly tightened.

* * *

**_8:36 AM_**

A vibration against his leg jerked Gibbs awake.

He blinked, disoriented, fuzzy tongue twitching against his equally fuzzy teeth.

Hospital. Detroit. He shook his head slightly, clearing the fog.  
Kate was still beside him. Her eyes were shut and the sound didn't wake her.

_VRRRRR…._

Wait. His phone.

He opened it, staggering to the hall.

"Gibbs."

_"Hey Gibbs"_. Fornell, sounding obscenely cheerful and alert. _"Got some news that'll make you very happy."_

Gibbs shook his head slightly, feeling more alert. "Rooke dead?"

* * *

Miles away, Fornell snorted.

"I said happy, not ecstatic. We got Rooke on the Canadian border."

"_What?"_

Fornell chuckled. Gibbs had never sounded so surprised.

"He was detailed by a squad car. Appears there was something on his face that caught the officers attention." Fornell grinned at the man handcuffed in the back of the police van.

Jonathan Rooke glowered back. Four scratches from human fingernails glowed livid on his cheek.

* * *

**1:01 AM**

Exactly four days after a needle had found his back, Tony woke.

He blinked, wondered vaguely why.  
McGee occupied the chair beside his bed, asleep and still.

People were moving in the half-light, nurses and gurney men. They were wheeling a bed into the room, and he remembered.

He turned and looked, but Gibbs wasn't there. Now his people were safe, most likely he was hunting down the people that put them there.

The gurney was pushed against the wall close by, the quiet snap of the wheels being locked into place echoing. Tony propped himself up, staring hard at Kate, taking in the bandages and tubes. Her eyes were closed as monitors were hooked up in the quiet. As the nurse moved away, they flickered open, vague and glistening under the sedation.

She focused on him slowly.

Tony flicked his fingers in a half-wave; smiled as her fingers unfurled in reply.

A nurse stood in his line of sight, and when she moved Kate's eyes were closed again

He lay back, staring as the ceiling lights began to dim and the room emptied, thinking. There was an odd feeling sitting on his chest.

It was over.  
Done.

Should the though surprise him so much?

...No.

Because distantly, in the part of him he was trying to ignore, he knew it wasn't.

* * *

Across the city, Rooke was finally getting his phone call.

"Well?"

_"Sorry. We can't help you."_

Then, as an afterthought—

_"Enjoy Prison."_

The voice at the end of the phone hung up.

In the watching room, Fornell watched as Rooke was still for a moment, then slowly put the phone down.  
He had been cut off.

His head went to his hands, and Fornell wondered.


	21. Epilogue: Part One

**Epilogue: Part One**

_Tap._

_Tap._

**CLUNK**

"Ow!"

"Heads up, Probie."

McGee scowled. Tony grinned. Then he threw another peanut and got McGee square between the eyes.  
McGee blinked coldly, left eye still watering. "Do you want something?"

"Got a joke for you, Probie."  
Across from him, Kate groaned.

"What." McGee sounded very resigned.

Tony threw a peanut. "What does a pirate ride?"  
McGee swiped the nuts off his desk. "A ship?"

"No, a HARRRRRley."

"Tony, you know I don't have the eye patch anymore—"  
"Wait, wait, here's another one. What do pirates smoke?"

"Tobacco."

"CigAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRrs." McGee just sort of sighed and watched the peanut bounce of his collar.

"Tony…"

"One last one, Kate. McGee! What part of the military do pirates join up to?"

McGee gave in. "The Arrrrrrmy?"  
Tony gave him a stern look. "The Navy, Probie!"

Across the bullpen, there was a sigh.

Tony glanced over at Kate. She was frowning at her computer screen. He picked up a peanut carefully, aimed.

"You even try it DiNozzo and she'll garrotte you."

Tony ducked, but the hit didn't come as Gibbs sailed past, the smell of black coffee scalding his nose. "Yes Boss."

Kate looked at him disapprovingly. "Tony, you shouldn't be eating those anyway. Do you know what peanuts do to your cholesterol levels?"

"Come on, they're tiny. How much fat is in a peanut?"

She slammed a drawer shut. "But you really can't afford it."

"Say what?"

She smirked.

"Hey, all muscle here!"

"Tony!"

"Coming Boss—" he grabbed the files, shoved them into a pile. Grasping his cane, he limped over to Gibbs's desk to give him the files.

As he passed her, he heard Kate muttering. "I meant fat from your head, Tony."

Tony pulled a face at her, and she pulled one right back.

"Kate, where's Ducky's Autopsy report?"

"Here." She reached over and slid it across his desk, a brief look of pain flitting across her face.

There was a rapid clicking noise, and everyone quickly got out of the way as Abby barrelled into the bullpen.

"Hey Gibbs!"

Gibbs winced as she ran into his foot. "I thought you put brakes on this thing."

"It cramped my style." Gibbs grabbed the blood test waving in front of his nose.

"For the sake of our toes, you may want to reconsider." Tony quipped as he limped back to his desk.

Abby grinned, sliding smoothly beside McGee to peer over his shoulder.

Tony sat back down. He glanced at the clock, and felt an uneasy jolt.

_Not long now._

* * *

Gibbs watched them.

Abby, McGee, Tony, Kate.

Three months. Some of the hardest he'd had.  
They'd had.

McGee no longer wore the eyepatch, but Tony had recited enough pirate jokes that even Ducky was threatening bodily harm. His hair had grown back, and Kate had lost her bruised look. Abby was alive, alert and smiling, which he knew had been almost too much to hope for.

But there were still signs.

Three months and Dinozzo still had a nasty limp, and Kate could barely stand straight from a chest brace and scarred feet.

And Abby…

He glanced at her sidelong. She was teasing McGee, tone gently and eyes oddly blank.

Gibbs's eyes fell on Tony, suddenly quiet and unsmiling. There was a sheen to his skin.  
Kate was watching him. Tony looked up. She didn't turn away, her eyes narrowing.

He shook his head slightly, and she gave a sort of sigh.

The two had been tied to their desks, and were driving him crazy, let alone each other. Yet here they were, with a communication that was beyond even Gibbs.

It hadn't all been bad. Good things had come out of this, happy moments.

There had been wheelchair races (Tony won), crutches (Kate), first to solid foods (Abby, surprisingly, though not to be complained about).  
He could remind himself of that, when things got hard.

Especially now.

"Gibbs…" Kate's voice was quiet.

* * *

Tony heard the lift open before Kate spoke.

They turned to look, at Tony felt a pain shoot down his leg.

Fornell had come, three FBI agents following behind.

"You ready to go?"

* * *

The trial had come.

Nothing like they could have hoped for, wanted. Rooke hadn't said a word since they'd got him, so the trial was on physical evidence and their testimony alone.

Him and only him would stand trial.  
Not the mysterious woman Kate had spoken to.  
Not the ones who'd cracked their bones and followed orders to kill.

Nothing.

The FBI had booked them into a hotel in New York for the trial, mainly to keep them protected. Tony was with McGee in the drive.  
For most of the time there was quiet between them.

"Something's up with Abby."

"What?" Tony's eyes had been half closed.

"Something's wrong."

Tony snorted. "Of course there's something wrong. We're about to go to trial."

"No, it's not that."

Tony didn't bother to try and question. For him reading Abby was like watching ripples; he could see the damage but not the reason for it.  
McGee knew. He always did.

"What do you think it is?"

"I don't know. She's not talking to me again." McGee had gotten better at keeping his voice blank.

Tony didn't reply, and McGee didn't continue.

* * *

It kept at him, though.

Checking in, being told strictly to keep to their rooms, there was a thought echoing inside his head.

_What are you doing, Abby?_

An hour later, he was lying flat on his bed, staring up at the ceiling. McGee had vanished.

In the end, he sighed and got to his feet, leg aching.  
The corridor was empty, aside from a boulder sized security guard standing by the stairs, who politely ignored him as he limped along.

He peeked into the girls' room.

Kate was not there; Abby was stretched out along her bed, and for a second he thought she was sleeping; the television murmured quietly and the light flickered across her face, turned away and bleached under the half-light.

He moved to close the door, and she jolted, head turning.

"Sorry."

She blinked. "Don't worry, I wasn't sleeping."

Her head has turned back and away before he moved beside her bed. Her legs were bone white like a mannequin's, tattoos glowing like paint on her skin. He sat down beside her and saw her face tighten as her legs slid slightly against the dip.

"Sorry—"

"It's just pins and needles, Tony." She said it breezily like she did everything else, and Tony found a part of him wondering how much of Abby was an act. Her eyes slid off him to focus on her feet.

"Well, that's good, if you're feeling something—"

"Not when it hurts." She leant forward, rubbing her calf gingerly.

He looked elsewhere, and Abby felt her dead legs.

The time had been less kind to Abby. It had taken her three days to regain consciousness, eight to talk, two weeks to sit up and eat.  
But three months later, and her legs were still sleeping.

"Can I ask you something?"

She wasn't looking at him, rubbing her legs as though she thought she could draw the feeling back into them.

"Yeah." He said it softly, and the reluctance was barely hidden.

Her voice was just as quiet. "I'm not me, am I."

She looked at him, and it was Tony who had to turn away.

The weeks after Abby had woken up had been…the only word Tony could find that would fit was horrific. He remembered seeing her wake for the first time, only for a few seconds, but her eyes were blank. He'd watched them move, flicking, looking at nothing. Tony had been there, and her eyes had slid over him before she sunk back.

Even then, he knew something wasn't right.

And he remembered Gibbs. Even as Abby had stared, eyes sliding of them like they weren't there, Gibbs tried. Told Abby her name, about NCIS.

Nothing about why she was there.

No reaction.

Tony was still focused on his kneecap.

"That's a statement, Abbs." He muttered, the joke coming out flat and dead.

Abby said nothing, closed her eyes.

* * *

Tony hadn't been able to stand it, walking out the third time Gibbs tried to make Abby remember, tried to make her react.

He was in a wheelchair, then; it turned out his walk with McGee when he first woke had been a bad choice. He hadn't asked the doctors for the prognosis, and they had been careful to give him a vague idea.

He told himself he didn't care; it could have been worse.

Then again, it could have been a lot better.

He'd gone to Kate's room, and was surprised to find her awake, looking out the window with clear eyes.

"Hey, Kate."

She turned, blinked. She had gone grey, like Abby, and like he probably had; though he wasn't getting near a mirror anytime soon to see.

She shifted slightly, to look at him better. "You've got a beard."

He rubbed his chin. "That's probably optimistic." It annoyed him that he continued to grow stubble while his head remained stubbornly bald.

She smiled, but it was only small and wasn't there for long. "What day is it?"

"Tuesday," He looked at his hands, rubbing a thumb over his scabbed knuckles. "Three days since you were brought in, a week since…"

He frowned. What where they calling it? A revenge plot, something like that. He had decided he didn't care about that, either; though he knew he couldn't keep it out for long.

Kate was dragging herself up, face creased and tight. That went with her lucidity; She had been on heavier painkillers than him, sleeping most of the past four days. Ducky had mentioned her dose had been lessened, and her face showed it.

"Should you be doing that?"  
"No." She sat back, and there was a slight sheen to her skin. He could hear her breathing, shallow and tight. His eyes moved along to her feet, bound hard and tight with white bandages.

Bare feet and a northern winter were never meant to go together; Frostbite had sunk into her feet with the lacerations, and it wasn't a pretty picture. He was there the last time they changed the bandages, and she had nearly broken his fingers as they bound them tight.

Tony heard the footsteps, turning slightly as McGee came up beside him. He looked pale and tired.

"Abby?" Tony asked him quietly. McGee just shook his head.

"Abby." Kate looked between them, suddenly alert. "Is she awake?"

"Not really." McGee slumped into the chair next to her bed. Kate looked at Tony, questioning.

He told her, and her saw the pain in her face. Abby should never have had to go through that, she was a civilian.

McGee was standing by the window, looking lost. "I don't know what to do."

Kate smiled a little sadly. "Maybe you should bring her Bert."

The hard thing was, McGee did the next day. It didn't do a thing, but he left it beside her bed.

* * *

Tony had been staring at his knuckles in the quiet, rubbing a thumb over the raised scars. He glanced up, and saw Abby's cheeks were wet. She was so still he hadn't heard, and he was suddenly sick with guilt.

She made no noise, even as he pulled her forward so her head rested on his shoulder. She hugged him tightly. Her breathing was deep and even, but he could feel the dampness spreading.

He hugged her, and wondered how he had let himself ignore how bony she still was.

He felt himself sigh.

"This is bullshit." It came out harsh.

He felt her laugh shortly into his shoulder.

"Never would've guessed, Tony."

He felt rather than saw someone stand by the door and watch them. The steps were soft as their owner backed away, and Tony had the nasty feeling they were McGee, which was all he needed.

Abby pulled herself up, wiping her cheek.

"Oh, I got snot on you."

He brushed it away. "What's McGee done?"

She didn't even bother to pretend she didn't know what he meant. "He hasn't done anything," she said quietly. "He's been... wonderful." There was regret, the way she said it.

"You might want to tell him that. He thinks you don't want him around."

"I know. It's just... It's going to disappoint him so badly when he realises."

"What?"

Her eyes shut. "That I'm just acting."

* * *

He stayed with her, and eventually her eyes drooped shut. He accidentally brushed against her leg as he stood, but there was no reaction at all.  
He carefully shut the door behind him, stared along the empty corridor.

Abby was different.

Yes.

Not as many smiles. Silence in the lab. And sudden anger that made the likes of Palmer race from the lab.

It wasn't just her though, they all had.

McGee, who'd turned sullen. He was angry, at how he'd been blocked out by survivors guilt. He couldn't identify with what had happened like Tony could, and it made him so angry. He'd played nursemaid to them for a months, and he still couldn't even begin to know what had happened. At least when he'd had the eyepatch, he could pretend.

Poor McGee. Tony could tell how he despised himself for feeling like that.

Kate?

Kate was… distracted.

He couldn't think of another word. She always seemed to be thinking about something else. She hadn't called him pathetic in a long time, though he had been waiting. Provoking her, even.

They had stayed at each other's apartments, because they both knew they couldn't stand to be looked after, and together it was a mutual disability. Sheer luck the first time (too much rain, Gibbs called McGee in) turned into habit they didn't want to think about.

She woke him up when the nightmares made him groan, and he did the same to her; insomnia was better when there were two to share it. It had worked.

He hadn't been over for two weeks, and it worried him more than he liked to admit.

And himself?

Not worth thinking about.

* * *

Tony spent the evening wandering through the hotel corridors, which they had been forbidden to do. The FBI had warned them to stay put, but Tony couldn't bear to. Gibbs and Fornell had vanished after they got there, and he couldn't find Kate.

He ended up at the bar sculling whisky, which he had never liked in the first place.

It was past midnight when he came to his door. He looked at it for a moment, wondering if he wanted to go in and have McGee stare at him.

Footsteps.

She smelt of bar too; Salty and stale, and it was so foreign on Kate he felt himself recoil.

She touched his shoulder, but there was a distance there. "Looks like I'm not the only one self medicating." Her smile was lop-sided, sarcastic.

She tried to brush past him, but he held her by the arms. She blinked at him, and he couldn't see past the fog that he swore had never been there before.

His eyes widened. "You're drunk."

She absorbed it in silence, considering, and he had the feeling she was only half listening. He suddenly wanted to prod her into a reaction, goad her into a fight. He could do it easily.  
Anything for a reaction.

Then she was smiling at him. "Hypocrite".

She half raised her hand, and for a split second he thought she was going to touch his face, but it landed on his shoulder and pushed him in the direction of his room.

"You should sleep. It's nearly 1 am."

She slipped through her door before he could wonder how she could be so sensible while she was drunk; then he wondered if the alcohol had been on her breath or whether he had imagined it.

Her door shut with a click, and he never got his answer.

* * *

_You're there again._

_A hand at your throat, the crunch of feet on your spine; there's only darkness and the reek of sweat and metal._

_Oh, and the noise. _

_How could you forget that._

_Flashes of images, they're meaningless compared to the sounds in the darkness._

_Guns, feet, helmets like insects and the smell of blood like foreign spice. You can taste it as feet nail you in the ribs once, twice, splintering bone._

_Those you can stand. _

_But you can hear Kate and Abby, can't see them but only hear as you're crushed down into the concrete. Something awful is happening, but you can't move, you're motionless and bleeding into the concrete._

_You can't stand to hear them scream, but the silence that falls is worse._

_You can't move in the silence._

* * *

Tony didn't jerk out his nightmares, didn't gasp and sit up covered in sweat and fighting for breath.  
Waking came slowly, and he stared at the ceiling.

That was a new one. He didn't know whether he preferred it to the choking. But then, it was better than seeing dead faces.

He closed his eyes, blinking the thought away. In the quiet, he could hear breathing.  
McGee had come in during the night, sprawled face down and half falling from bed. As a quiet sleeper, McGee was unnerving.

Tony stared harder, kept his mind like slate. Cold, blank. But light was creeping across his ceiling like fog, and words rose like waves in his mind.

Dawn.

Trial Day.


End file.
